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4       ^- 


NEW    YORK. 


II 


CHRISTIAN    MEMOIRS 


1830. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1836, 
BY   WILLIAM    PEIRCE, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massaehusetts. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
Preface,      --------5 

Introductory  Chapter,  -  -  -  -  -   11 

CHAPTER    T. 
John  Bunyan.  —  Struggles  with  Sin,        -  -  -  -  21 

CHAPTER    II. 
Thomas  Halliburton.  —  True  and  false  Religion,         -    ^    83 

CHAPTER    III. 

George  Trosse.  —  The  Change, — or  the  dissolute  vaga- 
bond renewed,  -__...       127 

CHAPTER    IV. 

Andrew  Burn. — The  Goodness  of  God  leading  to  R 6' 

pentance,  .......        155 

CHAPTER    V. 

Charles  Martyr.  —  Faith  leading  to  works,  -    .         183 

CHAPTER    VI. 

William  Howard.  —  The  ruined  outcast  Saved,  -        195 


t  o 


iV  pr.EFACE. 

CHAPTER    VII. 
James   Gardiner.  —  The  power  of  Grace,     -  -  209 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
William   Grimshaw.  —  The  Minister  made  a  Christian,        227 

CHAPTER    IX. 
Thomas   Bateman.  —  The  sceptical  Physician,  -  249 

CHAPTER    X. 
Richard  Baxter,  ...---     265 


PREFACE 


Christian  Biography  can  never  cease  to  be  interesting,  so  long  as 
a  sinofle  child  of  God  remains  on  earth,  to  be  edified,  stinmlated 
and  encouraged,  in  '  the  race  set  before  him.'  It  is,  however,  a 
department  of  writing,  which  requires  much  judgment,  and  discrim- 
ination, as  well  as  a  large  measure  of  Christian  experience.  It  ia 
not  every  good  man  that  leaves  behind  him  the  materials  for  an  ed- 
ifying memoir,  either  in  his  public  life,  among  his  private  papers,  or 
in  the  recollections  of  his  intimate  acquaintances  ;  and  even  where 
the  materials  are  rich  and  ample,  a  biographical  notice  may  lose  its 
proper  effect,  by  being  unskilfully  drawn  up.  It  is  quite  conceiva- 
ble, moreover,  that  books  of  this  class,  as  well  as  of  any  other, 
mio-ht   be  multiplied  beyond  convenient  and  profitable  limits. 

But  this  is  far  from  being  the  case  at  present.  '  Holy  living,' 
would  unquestionably  be  promoted,  by  many  more  well  written 
notices  of  those,  '  who  through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the  prom- 
ises ; '  and  sure  we  are,  that  the  demand  will  increase  with  the 
spread  of  '  pure  and  undefiled  religion.'  That  is  not  a  vain  curiosi- 
ty, which  inquires  with  so  much  interest,  for  the  Lives  of  those 
holy  men  and  women,  who  have  '  finished  their  course  with  joy,' 
and  '  being  dead  yet  speak.'  While  the  children  of  God  are  thus 
instructed,  quickened  and  humbled,  how  many  of  the  brightest  or- 
naments in  the  church  could  testify,  that  when  they  '  were  living 
without  God  in  the  world,  and  had  no  hope'  their  first  convictiens 
were  waked  up,  by  looking  into  the  memoirs  of  such  devoted  ser- 
vants of  Christ,  as  Bunyan,  and  Edwards,  and  Brainerd,  and 
Baxter. 

Even  were  the  circumstances  and  experience  of  the   saints   much 
nearer  alike  than  they  are,  it  would  still  be  useful  to   read  their  sev- 
2 


VI  PREFACB. 

eral  biographies,  for  the  sake  of  those  minor  lights  and  shades  of 
character,  which  no  similarity  of  condition,  temper,  early  training, 
or  religious  advantages,  can  ever  perfectly  blend  together.  But 
who  does  not  know,  that  in  point  of  fact,  the  diderences  are  as 
marked  and  instructive  in  the  'household  of  faith,'  as  anywhere 
else  ?  All  the  varieties  of  talent,  of  disposition,  of  rank,  of  edu- 
eation,  of  family  and  extraneous  influence,  and  of  earlier  and  later 
religious  advantages,  are  found  in  the  church,  and  all  of  them  help 
to  modify  Christian  character  and  experience.  Were  it  possible  to 
write  out  the  lives  of  all  who  have  gone  to  heaven,  how  striking 
would  be  seen  to  have  been  the  divershies  of  operations  by  the 
same  spirit,  —  how  various  their  attainments  in  knowledge  and  holi- 
ness—  how  diverse  their  joys  and  hopes  and  doubts  and  fears  — 
their  temptations,  their  conflicts  with  '  indwelling  sin,' — their  de- 
fects, their  victories,  their  zeal,  their  faith,  their  supports  in  sick- 
ness, and  their  consolations  in  the  hour  of  death. 

To  such  an  extent,  most  obviously,  biographical  notices  of  the 
children  of  God  can  never  be  carried.  But  a  sufficient  number  of 
them  ought  to  be  written  and  made  accessible  to  every  class  of 
readers,  to  develope  all  the  leading  traits  of  Christian  example  and 
experience,  in  every  age  and  country  ;  and  in  every  condition  of 
human  life.  Let  us  be  devoutly  thankful  to  God,  that  so  much  has 
already  been  done,  in  this  department  of  Christian  edification. 
Aside  from  Scripture  biography,  which  must  always  stand  unrivalled, 
and  which  is  in  every  body's  hands,  Ihere  are  many  precious  me- 
morials of  departed  excellence  to  be  found,  on  the  book-seller's 
shelves,  in  village  and  Sabbath  School  libraries,  and  in  private  fam- 
ilies. Some  of  the  most  instructive  of  these,  however,  are  too 
prolix  for  common  use,  or  are  bound  up  with  the  voluminous  writ- 
ir]<rs  of  the  persons  whose  distinguished  names  they  bear,  so  as  to 
be  put  out  of  the  reach  of  thousands,  who  might  be  eminently 
profited  by  reading  them. 

To  obviate  these  inconveniences,  various  methods  have  been 
adopted,  such  as  printing  them  in  cheap  separate  volumes  ;  conden- 
sinfT  and  publishing  them  in  the  form  of  tracts,  religious  annuals  and 
the  like.  In  the  present  undertaking,  a  somewhat  difi'erent  course 
has  been  adopted.  As  it  was  the  wish  of  the  compiler,  to  bring 
together  as  many  interesting  views  of  Christian  character  and  ex- 
perience as  possible,  within  moderate  limits,  he  has  selected  a  con- 
siderable number  of  striking  examples,  from  the  lives  and  memoirs 


PREFACE.  Vll 

which  have  fallen  under  his  notice.  Some  of  these  he  has  very 
much  abridged,  and  all  of  them  he  has  shortened  more  or  less  ; 
interspersing  such  observations  of  his  own,  as  he  thought  might  be 
useful,  and  taking  pains  to  give  a  special  prominence  to  the  most 
striking  developments  of  experimental  piety.  But  while  this  con- 
densing process  is  intended  to  favor  that  large  class  of  readers,  who 
have  but  little  time  or  money  to  spare,  it  is  hoped,  that  many  other 
persons  will  be  induced  by  what  they  find  here,  to  purchase  the 
larger  biographies,  from  which  these  sketches  are  mostly  taken. 

The  original  plan  of  this  compilation  has  been  considerably  mod- 
ified. It  was  at  first  intended  to  hold  up  to  view,  the  nature  of  gen- 
uine conviction  and  conversion,  as  exhibited  in  the  recorded  expe- 
rience of  eminent  saints,  chiefly  of  past  ages,  without  devoting 
much  space  to  their  subseq,uent  lives.  But  a  little  reflection  con- 
vinced the  compiler,  that  such  a  partial  notice  of  the  operations 
and  '  fruits  of  the  Spirit,'  would  not  satisfy  the  majority  of  readers, 
for  whose  benefit  the  task  was  undertaken.  No  sooner  is  the  intel- 
ligent Christian  made  acquainted  with  the  exercises  of  a  sinner's 
mind  before  regeneration,  and  with  his  'joy  and  peace  in  believing,' 
when  first  brought  '  out  of  darkness  into  marvellous  light,'  than  he 
wishes  to  know  more  of  him.  How  did  he  live  ?  Did  he  adorn 
his  Christian  profession  ?  Did  he  serve  God  and  his  generation 
faithfully  ?      Did  he  hold  out  to  the  end  ?      Did  he  die  in  peace  ? 

Such  are  the  inquiries  which  spontaneously  spring  up  in  almost 
every  mind,  and  how  can  they  be  answered  by  merely  saying,  that 
during  so  many  weeks,  months,  or  years,  he  was  in  great  distress  of 
mind,  and  was  at  last  '  brought  up  out  of  the  horrible  pit  and  miry 
clay,  and  had  a  new  song  put  into  his  mouth?  '  However  thorough 
and  genuine  the  work  of  God  upon  the  heart  of  any  sinner  may 
seem  to  be  at  first,  how  can  we  know  that  he  is  really  born  again  ? 
He  may  be  self-deceived,  or  he  may  for  a  time  assume  '  the  form  of 
godliness  '  from  sinis;ter  motives.  The  evidence  of  his  conversion  is 
to  be  sought  for  in  a  religious  life.  '  Every  good  tree  bringeth  forth 
good  fruit.' 

This  view  of  the  subject  suggested  another  plan,  which  was  to 
biing  together  in  one  small  volume,  the  experiences  of  fifteen  or 
twenty  distinguished  Christians,  during  the  process  of  conviction  and 
regeneration,  and  then  in  a  second  volume,  to  resume  and  carry 
forward  their  memoirs,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  how  they  lived 
and  how  they  died.      But  this  plan,  it  was  obvious,   would   destroy 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

the  unity  of  the  compilation,  and  divest  it  of  half  its  value.  What 
the  Christian  public  want,  in  the  biography  of  a  good  man,  is  a 
succinct,  comprehensive  and  continuous  account  of  his  entire  life 
and  character.  In  this  way  the  connection  between  regeneration 
and  sanctification  is  distinctly  brought  into  view  ;  and  it  is  extremely 
interesting  to  observe,  how  a  holy  life  springs  from  the  new  birth, 
as  well  as  to  notice  the  various  modifications  of  piety,  resulting 
from  the  circumstances  under  which  different  individuals  are  awak- 
ened and  converted. 

In  order  to  cover  the  whole  ground,  therefore,  and  preserve  the 
symmetry  of  the  '  new  man'  entire,  the  compiler  has  selected  two 
classes  of  memoirs.  The  first  class  contains  some  of  the  most  re- 
markable examples  we  could  find,  to  bring  into  view  the  agency  and 
mighty  power  of  God  in  regeneration  — and  in  the  second  class,  the 
reader  will  find  other  examples,  equally  striking,  of  the  power  of 
religion,  as  it  shines  in  the  devoted  lives  of  true  believers.  These 
classes  indeed,  must,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  often  run 
into  each  other;  and  it  is  extremely  interesting  to  observe,  how  they 
are  blended  together,  so  as  to  be  all  one  in  Christ  —  how  there  is 
*  one  body  and  one  spirit  ;  one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism,  one 
God  and  Father  of  all,  who  is  above  all,  and  through  all,  and  in  all.' 
Still,  in  the  prominent  features  to  which  I  have  alluded,  the  two 
classes  are  sufficiently  distinct  for  our  present  purpose  :  and  they 
will  be  so  arranged  in  this  compilation.  The  first  volume  will  be 
chiefly  taken  up  whh  narratives  of  the  early  lives,  the  atvakening, 
conviction,  and  conversion  of  such  men  as  Bunyan,  and  Halybur- 
ton,  and  Frosse,  and  Grimshaw,  and  Gardner  ;  and  the  second 
with  the  Christian  experience  and  holy  living  of  such  men  as 
Owen,  and  Edwards,  and  Howard,  and  Brainerd,  and  French,  and 
Mather. 

A  glance  at  the  contents  will  show,  that  in  making  these  selec- 
tions, the  compiler  has  taken  a  wider  range.  He  has  brought  to- 
gether some  of  the  most  distinguished  servants  of  God,  from  remote 
£iges  and  nations,  and  from  different  professions  and  pursuits,  that 
the  intelligent  reader  might,  by  comparing  them  together,  see,  that 
true  religion  is  essentially  one  and  the  same  thing  at  all  times  and  in 
all  places.  None  of  the  great  and  good  men  whose  memoirs  will 
be  found  in  these  volumes  were  perfect,  it  is  true  ;  — they  knew  it 
better  than  we  do.  They  inherited,  it  may  be,  their  full  share  of 
human  infirmities.      Certainly  they  often  '  groaned  being  burdened  ;' 


PREFACE.  IX 

and  O  how  bitterly  were  they  wont  to  cry  out,  from  time  to  time, 
with  Paul,  '  Who  shall  deliver  us  from  the  body  of  this  death  ! ' 
From  some  of  their  opinions  on  minor  points,  we  may  feel  con- 
strained to  dissent  ;  and  imperfections  there  undoubtedly  were,  in 
their  characters,  which  it  would   be  wrong  for  any  one  to  copy. 

But  after  all,  there  will  be  found  a  similarity  in  their  views  and 
feelings,  and  governing  principles  of  action,  which  is  exceedingly 
instructive.  It  is  manifest,  that  they  '  all  ate  the  same  spiritual 
meat,  and  drank  the  same  spiritual  drink.'  Amid  all  the  diversities 
of  temperament,  education,  and  the  thousand  other  influences  which 
modify  human  character,  in  everything  essential,  they  harmonized. 
They  cordially  embraced  all  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  the 
Bible,  and  clave  to  them  with  their  dying  breath.  They  entertain- 
ed similar  views  of  the  holiness,  strictness  and  purity  of  God"s  law, 
and  of  the  '  exceeding  sinfulness  '  of  sin.  They  felt  and  acknowK 
edged,  that '  by  nature  they  were  children  of  wrath,'  wholly  de- 
praved, and  justly  liable  to  everlasting  punishment.  They  saw  and 
felt,  under  the  striving  of  the  Spirit  that  they  were  in  a  helpless  as 
well  as  a  miserable  condition,  such  being  the  opposition  of  their 
hearts  to  God,  that  nothing  short  of  his  power  could  ever  subdue 
them.  They  were  all  alike,  so  far  as  their  feelings  are  developed 
in  these  memoirs,  led  to  despair  of  'justification  by  the  deeds  of  the 
Jaw,'  and  to  cast  themselves  upon  Him  who  <  is  the  end  of  the  law 
for  righteousness  to  every  one  that  believeth.'  In  looking  back 
upon  their  former  deplorable  and  guilty  state,  after  they  began  to 
hope  their  hearts  were  changed,  they  all  with  one  consent  ascribed 
the  change,  not  to  moral  suasion;  not  to  their  own  resolutions  or  ef- 
forts ;  but  to  the  sovereign  and  new-creating  energy  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  They  were  ever  ready  to  magnify  '  the  exceeding  great- 
ness of  the  power  of  God  '  in  their  regeneration.  They  spoke  of 
it  familiarly,  as  '  according  to  the  working  of  his  mighty  power, 
which  he  wrought  in  Christ,  when  he  raised  him  from  the  dead,  and 
set  him  at  his  own  right  hand  in  the  heavenly  places.'  It  was  mat- 
ter of  astonishment  to  them,  that  God  did  not  suddenly  cut  them 
off  in  their  sins,  or  leave  them  in  judicial  blindness  and  hardness  cf 
heart,  to  'treasure  up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath.'  Grace, 
grace — free  grace!  surprising  grace  I — this  was  the  theme  on 
which  they  all  delighted  to  dwell. 

Nor  while  they  magnified  the    riches  of  divine  grace  in  their  efs 
fectual  calling,  and  depended  solely  on  Christ  for  pardon   and    salva- 
*2 


X  PREFACE. 

tion,  did  they  consider  themselves  absolved  from  obedience  to  '  one 
jot  or  tittle  of  the  law.'  On  the  contrary,  they  felt  that  their  obliga- 
tions to  keep  the  law  were  immensely  mcreased,  by  what  Christ  had 
done  to  deliver  them  from  its  curse,  and  redeem  them  to  God  by  his 
own  blood.  Their  grief  was,  not  that  the  law  was  so  strict  and 
holy,  but  that  they  fell  so  far  short  of  that  perfect  obedience  which 
it  requires  We  cannot  indeed  be  certain,  that  they  were  all  bom 
again  —  that  they  have  all  gone  to  heaven  ;  for  it  is  the  prerogative 
of  God  alone  to  '  search  the  heart  and  try  the  reins; '  but  when  we 
examine  the  evidence  that  they  had  passed  from  death  unto  life,  in 
the  light  of  God's  word,  and  when  we  look  at  their  holy  and  devot- 
ed lives,  and  accompany  them  down  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  how  can  we  doubt  that  they  are  now  in  the  regions  of  the 
blessed  ?  The  pious  reader  will  rejoice,  as  he  turns  over  page  after 
paffe,  and  proceeds  from  one  sketch  to  another,  to  find  so  much  of 
the  Bible  in  the  deep  and  searching  experience,  and  in  the  bright 
example  of  the  men,  whose  memorial  is  contained  in  this  little 
volume  :  and  as  he  traces  out  that  striking  resemblance  to  which  I 
have  already  alluded,  in  all  the  essential  features  of  Christian  char- 
acter he  will  recognize  with  gratitude  and  admiration  '  One  and  the 
self-same  Spirit,  dividing  to  every  man  severally  as  he  will.'  May 
that  good  Spirit  enlighten  the  mind  and  sanctify  the  heart  of  every 
reader,  and  graciously  accept  of  this  feeble  attempt  to  glorify  Him 
who  is  over  all  God  blessed  forever.  Amen. 

Amherst   CoUes^e,  Dec.  8,    1835. 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER 


The  following  extracts  from  President  Edwards'  Alarratian  of 
Surprising  Conversions,  in  a  letter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Colman,  are 
inserted  here,  as  the  most  suitable  introduction  to  the  present  volume 
which  the  corupiler  has  been  able  to  furnish.*  After  giving  his 
friend  a  particular  account  of  the  commencement  and  progress  of 
that  remarkable  revival  of  religion  in  Northampton  which  took 
place  under  his  ministry-  in  1734-5,  Edwards  thus  lays  open  the  ex- 
ercises of  awakened  and  convicted  sinners. 

In  the  manner  of  persons  being  wrought  upon,  there  is  a  vast 
Tariety,  perhaps  as  manifold  as  the  subjects  of  the  operation  ;  but 
yet  in  many  things  there  is  a  great  analogy  in  all. 

Persons  are  first  awakened  with  a  sense  of  their  miserable 
condition  by  nature,  the  danger  they  are  in  of  perishing  eternally, 
and  that  it  is  of  great  importance  to  them  that  they  speedily  es- 
cape, and  get  into  a  better  state.  Those  that  before  were  secure 
and  senseless,  are  made  sensible  how  much  they  were  in  the  way 
to  ruin  in  their  former  courses.  Some  are  more  suddenly  seized 
with  convictions  ;  it  may  be  by  the  news  of  others'  conversion,  or 
something  they  hear  in  public  or  private  conference,  their  con- 
sciences are  suddenly  smitten,  as  if  their  hearts  were  pierced  through 
with  a  dart  :  others  have  awakenings  that  come  upon  them  more 
gradually,  they  begin  at  first  to  be  something  more  thoughtful  and 
considerate,  so  as  to  come  to  a  conclusion  in  their  minds,  that  it  is 
their  best  and  wisest  way  to  delay  no  longer,  but  to  improve  the 
present  opportunity  ;  and  have  accordingly  set  themselves  seriously 
to  meditate  on  those  things  that  have  the  most  awakening   tendency, 

*  See  Edward's  Works,  vol.  iii.  Worcester  Editiou. 


12  INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER. 

on  purpose  to  obtain  convictions  ;  and  so  their  awakenings  have  in- 
creased, till  a  sense  of  their  misery,  by  God's  tfpirit  setting  in 
therewith,  has  had  fast  hold  of  them.  Others  that,  before  this 
wondeiful  time,  had  been  somethmg  religious  and  concerned  for 
their  salvation,  have  been  awakened  in  a  new  manner,  and  made 
sensible  that  their  slack  and  dull  way  of  seeking  was  never  like 
to  attain  their  purpose,  and  so  have  been  raised  up  to  a  greater  vio- 
lence for  the   kingdom  of  heaven. 

These  awakenings,  when  they  have  first  seized  upon  persons, 
have  had  two  effects  :  one  was  that  they  have  brought  them  imrae- 
diatelv  to  quit  their  sinful  practices,  and  the  looser  sort  have  been 
brought  to  forsake  and  dread  their  former  vices  and  extravagances. 
When  once  the  Spirit  of  God  began  to  be  so  wonderfully  poured 
out  in  a  general  wav  through  the  town,  people  had  soon  done  with 
their  old  quarrels,  backbitings,  and  intermeddlings  with  other  men's 
matters  ;  the  tavern  was  soon  left  empty,  and  persons  kept  very 
much  at  hooie  ;  none  went  abroad  unless  on  necessary  business,  or 
on  some  religious  account,  and  every  day  seeuied  in  many  respects 
like  a  Sabbath-day.  And  the  other  effect  was,  that  it  put  them  on 
earnest  application  to  the  means  of  salvation,  reading,  prayer,  med- 
itation, the  ordinances  of  God"s  house,  and  private  conference  ; 
their  cry  was,  "  What  shall  we  do  to  be  saved  ?  "  The  place  of 
resort  was  now  altered,  it  was  no  longer  the  tavern,  but  the  n)inis- 
ter's  house  ;  that  was  thronged  far  more  than  ever  the  tavern  had 
been  wont  to   be. 

'i  here  is  a  very  great  variety,  as  to  the  degree  of  fear  and  trcuble 
that  persons  are  exercised  with,  before  they  obtain  any  comfortable 
evidence  of  pardon  and  acceptance  with  God  :  some  are  from  the 
beginning  carried  on  with  abundantly  more  encouragement  and  hope, 
than  others  :  some  have  had  ten  times  less  trouble  of  mind  than 
others,  in  whom  yet  the  issue  seems  to  be  the  same.  Some  have 
had  such  a  sense  of  the  displeasure  of  God,  and  the  great  danger 
they  were  in  of  damnation,  that  they  could  not  sleep  at  night  ;  and 
many  have  said  that  when  they  have  laid  down,  the  thought  of 
sleeping  in  such  a  condition  have  been  frightful  to  them,  and  they 
have  scarcely  been  free  from  terror  while  asleep,  and  they  have 
awaked  with  fear,  heaviness,  and  distress  still  abiding  on  their 
spirits.  It  has  been  very  common,  that  the  deep  and  fixed  concern 
that  has  been  on  person's  minds,  has  had  a  painful  influence  ou 
their  bodies,  and  given  disturbance  to  animal  nature. 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER.  13 

The  awful  apprehensions  persons  have  had  of  their  misery,  have 
for  the  most  part  been  increasing,  the  nearer  they  have  approached  to 
deliverance,  though  they  often  pass  through  many  changes,  and  alter- 
ations in  the  frame  and  circumstances  of  their  minds  :  sometimes 
they  think  themselves  wholly  senseless,  and  fear  that  the  Spirit  of 
God  has  left  them,  and  that  they  are  given  up  to  judicial  hardness  ; 
yet  they  appear  very  deeply  exercised  about  that  fear,  and  are  in 
great  earnest  to  obtain  convictions  again. 

Together  with  these  fears,  and  that  exercise  of  mind  which  is 
rational,  and  which  they  have  just  ground  for,  they  have  often  suf- 
fered many  needless  distresses  of  thought,  in  which  Satan  probably 
has  a  great  hand,  to  entangle  them,  and  block  up  their  way  ;  and 
sometimes  the  distemper  of  melancholy  has  been  evidently  mixed  ; 
of  which,  when  it  happens,  the  tempter  seems  to  make  great  advan- 
tage, and  puts  an  unhappy  bar  in  the  way  of  any  good  effect  :  one 
knows  not  how  to  deal  with  such  persons  ;  they  turn  everything 
that  is  said  to  them  the  wrong  way,  and  most  to  their  own  disadvan- 
tage :  and  there  is  nothing  that  the  devil  seems  to  make  so  great  a 
handle  of,  as  a  melancholy  humor,  unless  it  be  the  real  corruption 
of  the  heart. 

But  it  has  been  very  remarkable,  that  there  has  been  far  less  of 
this  mixture  in  this  time  of  extraordinary  blessings,  than  there  was 
wont  to  be  in  persons  under  awakenings  at  other  times  ;  for  it  is  evi- 
dent that  many  that  before  had  been  exceedingly  involved  in  such 
difficulties,  seemed  now  strangely  to  be  set  at  liberty.  Some  per- 
sons that  had  before  for  a  long  time,  been  exceedingly  entangled  with 
peculiar  temptations,  of  one  sort  or  other,  and  unprofitable  and  hurt- 
ful distresses,  were  soon  helped  over  stumbling  blocks,  that  had  for- 
merly hindered  any  progress  towards  saving  good  ;  and  convictions 
have  wrought  more  kindly,  and  they  have  been  successfully  car- 
ried on  in  the  way  to  life.  And  thus  Satan  seemed  to  be  restrained, 
till  towards  the  latter  end  of  this  wonderful  time,  when  God's  Spirit 
was  about  to  withdraw. 

Many  times  persons  under  great  awakenings  were  concerned,  be- 
cause they  thought  they  were  not  awakened,  but  miserable,  hard- 
hearted, senseless,  sottish  creatures  still,  and  sleeping  upon  the  brink 
of  hell.  The  sense  of  the  need  they  have  to  be  awakened,  and  of 
their  comparative  hardness,  grows  upon  them  with  their  awakenings  ; 
so  that  they  seem  to  themselves  to  be  very  senseless,  when  indeed 
most  sensible.     There  have   been  some   instances  of  persons   that 


14  INTKODUCTORY    CHAPTER. 

have  had  as  great  a  sense  of  their  danger  and  misery,  as  their  na- 
tures could  well  subsist  under,  so  that  a  little  more  would  probably 
have  destroyed  them  ;  and  yet  they  have  expressed  themselves 
much  aniazed  at  their  own  insensibility  and  sottishnessin  such  an  ex- 
traordinary time  as  it  then  was. 

Persons  are  sometimes  brought  to  the  borders  of  despair,  and  it 
looks  as  black  as  midnight  to  them  a  little  before  the  day  dawns  in 
their  souls  ;  some  few  instances  there  have  been  of  persons,  who 
have  had  such  a  sense  of  God's  wrath  for  sin,  that  they  have  been 
overborne,  and  made  to  cry  out  under  an  astonishing  sense  of  their 
guilt,  wondering  that  God  suffers  such  guilty  wretches  to  live  upon 
earth,  and  that  he  doth  not  immediately  send  them  to  hell  ;  and 
sometimes  their  guilt  does  so  glare  them  in  the  face,  that  they  are 
in  exceeding  terror  for  fear  that  God  will  instantly  do  it  ;  but  more 
commonly  the  distresses  under  legal  awakenings  have  not  been  to 
such  a  degree.  In  some  these  terrors  do  not  seem  to  be  so  sharp, 
when  near  comfort,  as  before;  their  convictions  have  not  seemed 
to  work  so  much  that  way,  but  they  seem  to  be  led  further  down  in- 
to their  own  hearts,  to  a  further  sense  of  their  own  universal  de- 
pravity, and  deadness  in  sin. 

The  corruption  of  the  heart  has  discovered  itself  in  various  exer- 
cises in  the  time  of  legal  convictions  ;  sometimes  it  appears  in  a 
great  struggle,  like  something  roused  by  an  enemy,  and  Satan  the 
old  inhabitant  seems  to  exert  himself,  like  a  serpent  disturbed  and 
enraged.  Many  in  such  circumstances,  have  felt  a  great  spirit  of  en- 
vy, towards  the  godly,  especially  towards  those  that  are  thought  to 
have  been  lately  converted,  and  most  of  all  towards  acquaintances 
and  companions,  when  they  were  thought  to  be  converted.  Indeed 
some  have  felt  many  heart-risings  against  God,  and  murmurings  at 
his  ways  of  dealing  with  mankind,  and  his  dealings  with  them- 
selves in  particular.  It  has  been  much  insisted  on,  both  in  public 
and  private,  that  persons  should  have  the  utmost  dread  of  such  envi- 
ous thoughts,  which,  if  allowed,  tend  exceedingly  to  quench  the 
Spirit  of  God,  if  not  to  provoke  him  finally  to  forsake  them.  And 
when  such  a  spirit  has  much  prevailed,  and  persons  have  not  so  earn- 
estly strove  against  it,  as  they  ought  to  have  done,  it  has  seemed  to 
be  exceedingly  to  the  hindrance  of  the  good  of  their  souls  :  but  in 
some  other  instances,  where  persons  have  been  much  terrified  at  the 
sight  of  such  wickedness  in  their  hearts,  God  has  brought  good  to 
thern  out  of  evil 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTEK.  15 

their  owfii  desperate  sinfulness,  and  bringing  them  off  from  all  self- 
confidence. 

The  drift  of  thd  Spirit  of  God  fn  his  legal  strivings'  with  person*, 
has  seemed  most  evident!}'  to  be,  to  niake  way  for,  and  t<t  brin*  to', 
a  conviction  of  their  absolute  dependence  on  his  sovereign  power 
and  grace,  and  universal  necessity  of  a  mediator,  by  leading  them 
more  and  more  to  a  sense  of  their  exceeding  wickedness,  and  guilti- 
ness in  his  sight  ;  the  pollution,  and  insufficiency  of  their  own  right- 
eousness, that  they  can  in  no  wise  help  themselves,  and  that  Cod 
would  be  wholly  just  and  righteous  in  rejecting  them,  and  all  that 
they  do,  and  in  casting  them  off  forever  :  though  there  be  a  vast 
variety,  as  to  the  manner,  and  distinctness  of  persons'  convictions  of 
these  things. 

As  they  are  gradually  more  and  more  convinced  of  the  corrnp"- 
tion  and  wickedness  of  their  hearts,  they  seem  to  themselves  to  grow 
worse  and  worse,  harder  and  blinder,  and  more  desperately  wicked, 
instead  of  growing  better.  Ihey  are  ready  to  be  discouraged  by 
it,  and  oftentimes  never  think  themselves  so  far  off  from  good,  as 
when  they  are  nearest  Under  the  sense  which  the  Spirit  of  Ciod 
gives  them  of  their  sinfulness,  they  often  think  that  they  difler  from 
all  others  ;  their  hearts  are  ready  to  sink  with  the  thought,  that 
they  are  the  worst  of  all,  and  that  none  evor  obtained  mercy  that 
were  so   wicked  as  they. 

When  awakenings  first  begin,  their  consciences  are  commonly 
most  exercised  about  their  outward  vicious  course,  or  other  acts  of 
sin  ;  but  afterwards,  are  much  more  burdened  with  a  sense  of  heart 
sins,  the  dreadful  corruption  of  their  nature,  their  enmity  against 
God,  the  pride  of  their  hearts,  their  unbelief,  their  rejection  of 
Christ,  the  stubbornness  and  obstinacy  of  their  wills  ;  and  the  like. 
In  many,  God  makes  much  use  of  their  own  experience,  in  the 
course  of  their  awakenings,  and  endeavors  after  saving  good,  to  con- 
vince  them  of  their  own  vile  emptiness  and  universal    depravity. 

Very  often  under  first  awakenings,  when  they  are  brought  to  re- 
flect on  the  sin  of  their  past  lives,  and  have  something  of  a  terrify- 
ing sense  of  God's  anger,  they  set  themselves  to  walk  more  strictly, 
and  confess  their  sins,  and  perform  many  religious  duties,  with  a  se- 
cret hope  of  appeasing  God's  anger,  and  making  up  for  the  sins 
they  have  committed.  And  oftentimes,  at  first  setting  out,  their  af- 
fections are  moved,  and  they  are  full  of  tears,  in  their  confessions 
and  prayers,  which  they  are  ready  to  make  very  much  of,  as  though 


16  INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER. 

they  were  some  atonement,  and  had  power  to  more  corresponding 
affections  in  God  too  :  and  hence  they  are  for  awhile  big  with  ex- 
pectation of  what  God  will  do  for  them  ;  and  conceive  that  they 
grow  better  apace,  and  shall  soon  be  thoroughly  converted.  But 
these  affections  are  but  shortlived,  they  quickly  find  that  they  fail, 
and  then  they  think  themselves  to  be  grown  worse  again;  they  do 
not  find  such  a  prospect  of  being  soon  converted  as  they  thought  ; 
instead  of  being  nearer,  they  seem  to  be  farther  off;  their  hearts 
they  think  are  grown  harder,  and  by  this  means  their  fears  of  per- 
ishing greatly  increase.  But  though  they  are  disappointed,  they 
renew  their  attempts  again  and  again  ;  and  still  as  their  attempts  are 
multiplied,  so  are  their  disappointments  :  all  fail,  they  see  no  token 
of  having  inclined  God's  heart  to  them,  they  do  not  see  that  he 
hears  their  prayers  at  all,  as  they  expected  he  would  ;  and  some- 
times there  have  been  great  temptations  arising  hence  to  leave  off 
seeking,  and  to  yield  up  the  case.  But  as  they  are  still  more  terri- 
fied with  fears  of  perishing,  and  their  former  hopes  of  prevailing  on 
God  to  be  merciful  to  them  in  a  great  measure  fail,  sometimes  their 
religious  affections  have  turned  into  heart-risings  against  God,  because 
that  he  would  not  pity  them,  and  seems  to  have  little  regard  to  their 
distress  and  piteous  cries,  and  to  all  the  pains  they  take  ;  they  think 
of  the  mercy  that  God  has  shown  to  others,  how  soon  and  liow  ea- 
sily others  have  obtained  comfort,  and  those  too  that  were  worse 
than  they,  and  have  not  labored  so  much  as  they  have  done,  and 
sometimes  they  have  had  dreadful  blasphemous  thoughts,  in  these 
circumstances. 

But  when  they  reflect  on  these  wicked  workings  of  heart  against 
God,  if  their  convictions  are  continued,  and  the  Spirit  of  God  is  not 
provoked  utterly  to  forsake  them,  they  have  more  distressing  ap- 
prehensions of  the  anger  of  God  towards  those,  whose  hearts  work 
after  such  a  sinful  manner  about  him  ;  and  it  may  be,  have  great 
fears  that  they  have  committed  the  unpardonable  sin,  or  that  God 
will  surely  never  show  mercy  to  them  that  are  such  vipers  :  and  are 
often  tempted  to  leave  ofl^  in  despair. 

But  then  perhaps,  by  something  they  read  or  hear  of  the  infinite 
mercy  of  God,  and  all-sufficiency  of  Christ  for  the  chief  of  sinners  ; 
they  have  some  encouragement  and  hope  renewed  ;  but  think  that 
as  yet  they  are  not  fit  to  come  to  Christ,  they  are  so  wicked  that 
Christ  will  never  accept  them  :  and  then  it  may  be  that  they  set 
themselves  upon  a   new   course  of  fruitless   endeavors  in  their  own 


INTRODUCTORY     CHAPTER.  17 

Strength  to  make  themselves  better,  and  still  meet  with  new  disap- 
pointments. They  are  earnest  to  inquire  what  they  shall  do. 
They  do  not  know  but  there  is  something  else  to  be  done,  in  order 
to  their  obtaining  converting  grace,  that  they  have  never  done  yet. 
It  may  be  they  hope  that  they  are  something  better  than  they  were, 
but  then  the  pleasing  dream  all  vanishes  again.  If  they  are  told 
that  they  trust  too  much  to  their  own  strength  and  righteousness, 
they  cannot  unlearn  this  practice  all  at  once,  and  find  not  yettheap- 
pearance  of  any  good,  but  all  looks  as  dark  as  midnight  to  them. 
Thus  they  wander  about  from  mountain  to  hill,  seeking  rest  and  find- 
ing none.  When  they  are  beat  out  of  one  refuge  they  fly  to  ano- 
ther, till  they  are,  as  it  were,  debilitated,  broken,  and  subdued  with 
legal  humblings  :  in  which  God  gives  them  a  conviction  of  their 
own  utter  helplessness  and  insuthciency,  and  discovers  the  true  rem- 
edy in  a  clearer  knowledge  of  Christ  and  his  gospel. 

When  tiiey  begin  to  seek  salvation,  they  are  commonly  profound- 
ly ignorant  of  themselves;  they  are  not  sensible  how  blind  they 
are,  and  how  little  they  can  do  towards  bringing  themselves  to  see 
spiritual  things  aright,  and  towards  putting  forth  gracious  exercises 
in  their  own  souls  ;  they  are  not  sensible  how  remote  they  are  from 
love  to  God,  and  other  holy  dispositions,  and  how  dead  they  are  ia 
sin.  When  they  see  unexpected  pollution  in  their  own  hearts  they 
go  about  to  wash  away  their  own  defilements,  and  make  themselves 
clean  ;  and  they  weary  themselves  in  vain,  till  God  shows  them  it 
is  in  vain,  and  that  their  help  is  not  ^^here  they  have  sought  it,  but 
elsewhere. 

But  some  persons  continue  wandering  in  such  a  kind  of  labyrinth, 
ten  times  as  long  as  others,  before  their  own  experience  will  con- 
vince them  of  their  insufficiency  ;  and  so  it  appears  not  to  be  their 
own  experience  only,  but  the  convincing  influence  of  God's  Spirit 
with  their  experience  that  attains  the  effect.  And  God  has  of  late 
abundantly  shown  that  he  does  not  need  to  wait  to  have  men  con- 
vinced by  long  and  often  repeated,  fruitless  trials  ;  for  in  multitudes 
of  instances  he  has  made  a  shorter  work  of  it.  He  has  so  awakened 
and  convinced  persons'  consciences,  and  made  them  so  sensible  of 
their  exceeding  great  vileness,  and  given  them  such  a  sense  of  his 
wrath  against  sin,  as  has  quickly  overcome  all  their  vain  self-confi- 
dence, and  borne  them  down  into  the  dust  before  a  holy  and  righte- 
ous  God. 

There  have  been   some  who  have  not  had  great  terrors,  but  have 


18  INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER. 

had  a  very  quick  work.  Some  of  those  that  have  not  had  so  deep 
a  conviction  of  these  things  before  their  conversion,  have,  it  may  be, 
much  more  of  it  afterwards.  God  has  appeared  far  from  limiting 
himself  to  any  certain  method  in  his  proceedings  with  sinners  tinder 
legal  convictions.  In  some  instances  it  seems  easy  for  our  reason- 
ing powers  to  discern  the  methods  of  divine  wisdom,  in  his  dealings 
with  the  soul  under  awakenings  :  in  others  his  footsteps  cannot  be 
traced,  and  his  ways  are  past  finding  out  :  and  some  that  are  less  dis- 
tinctly wrought  upon,  in  what  is  preparatory  to  grace,  appear  no  less 
eminent  in  gracious  experiences  afterwards. 

There  is  in  nothing  a  greater  difference,  in  different  persons,  than 
with  respect  to  the  time  of  their  being  under  trouble  ;  some  but  a 
few  days,  and  others  for  months  or  years.  There  were  many  in  this 
town  that  had  been  before  this  effusion  of  God's  Spirit  upon  us,  for 
years,  and  some  for  many  years  concerned  about  their  salvation  ; 
though  probably  they  were  not  thoroughly  awakened,  yet  they  were 
concerned  to  such  a  degree  as  to  be  very  uneasy,  so  as  to  live  an  un- 
comfortable, disquieted  life,  and  so  as  to  continue  in  a  way  of  taking 
considerable  pains  about  their  salvation,  but  had  never  obtained  any 
comfortable  evidence  of  a  good  estate,  who  now  in  this  extraordina- 
ry time  have  received  light  ;  but  many  of  them  were  some  of  the 
last  :  they  first  saw  multitudes  of  others  rejoicing,  and  with  songs  of 
deliverance  in  their  mouths,  who  seemed  wholly  careless  and  at 
ease,  and  in  pursuit  of  vanity,  while  they  had  been  bowed  down 
with  solicitude  about  their  souls  ;  yea,  some  had  lived  licentiously, 
and  so  continued  till  a  little  before  they  were  converted,  and  grew 
up  to  a  holy  rejoicing  in  the  infinite  blessings  God  has  bestowed  upon 
them. 

And  whatever  minister  has  a  like  occasion  to  deal  with  souls,  in 
a  flock  under  such  circumstances,  as  this  was  in  the  last  year,  I  can- 
not but  think  he  will  soon  find  himself  under  a  necessity,  greatly  to 
insist  upon  it  with  them,  that  God  is  under  no  manner  of  obligation 
to  show  any  mercy  to  any  natural  man,  whose  heart  is  not  turned 
to  God  :  and  that  a  man  can  challenge  nothing,  either  in  absolute 
justice,  or  by  free  promise,  from  anything  he  does  before  he  has  be- 
lieved on  Jesus  Christ,  or  has  true  repentance  begun  in  him.  It  ap- 
pears to  me,  that  if  I  had  taught  those  that  came  to  me  under  trou- 
ble, any  other  doctrine,  I  should  have  taken  a  most  direct  course  ut- 
terly to  have  undone  them  :  I  should  have  directly  crossed  what  wa» 
plainly  the  drift  of  the  Spirit  of  God  in  his  influences   upon    them; 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER.  19 

for  if  they  had  believed  what  I  said,  it  would  either  have  promoted 
self-flattery  and  carelessness,  and  so  put  an  end  to  their  awaken- 
ings ;  or  cherished  and  established  their  contention  and  strife  with 
God,  concerning  his  dealings  with  them  and  others,  and  blocked  up 
their  way  to  that  humiliation  before  the  sovereign  Disposer  of  life 
and  death,  whereby  God  is  wont  to  prepare  them  for  his  consola- 
tions. And  yet  those  that  have  been  under  awakenings,  have  often- 
times plainly  stood  in  need  of  being  encouraged,  by  being  told  of 
the  infinite  and  all-sufficient  mercy  of  God  in  Christ  ;  and  that  it  is 
God's  manner  to  succeed  diligence,  and  to  bless  his  own  means, 
that  so  awakenings  and  encouragements,  fear  and  hope,  may  be  duly 
mixed,  and  proportioned  to  preserve  their  minds  in  a  just  medium 
between  the  two  extremes  of  self-flattery  and  despondence,  both 
which  tend  to  slackness  and  negligence,  and  in  the  end  to  secu- 
rity. 

I  think  I  have  found  that  no  discourses  have  been  more  remarka- 
bly blessed,  than  those  in  which  the  doctrine  of  God's  absolute  sove- 
reignty with  regard  to  the  salvation  of  sinners,  and  his  just  liberty, 
with  regard  to  answering  the  prayers,  or  succeeding  the  pains  of 
mere  natural  men,  continuing  such,  have  been  insisted  on.  I  never 
found  so  much  immediate  saving  fruit,  in  any  measure,  of  any  dis- 
courses I  have  ofl^ered  to  my  congregation,  as  some  from  those 
words,  Romans,  3  :  19.  "  That  every  mouth  may  be  stopped  ;  " 
endeavoring  to  show  from  thence  that  it  would  be  just  with  God  for- 
ever to  reject  and  cast  off"  mere  natural  man. 

In  those  in  whom  awakenings  seem  to  have  a  saving  issue,  com- 
monly the  first  thing  that  appears  after  their  legal  troubles,  is  a  con- 
viction of  the  justice  of  God  in  their  condemnation,  in  a  sense  of 
their  own  exceeding  sinfulness,  and  the  vileness  of  all  their  per- 
formances. In  giving  an  account  of  this  they  expressed  themselves 
very  variously  ;  some,  that  they  saw  that  God  was  a  sovereign, 
and  might  receive  others  and  reject  them  ;  some,  that  they  were 
convinced,  that  God  might  justly  bestow  mercy  on  every  person  in 
the  town,  and  on  every  person  in  the  world,  and  damn  themselves 
to  all  eternity  ;  some,  that  they  see  that  God  may  justly  have  no  re- 
gard to  all  the  pains  they  have  taken,  and  all  the  prayers  they  have 
made  ;  some,  that  they  see  that  if  they  should  seek,  and  take  the 
utmost  pains  all  their  lives,  God  might  justly  cast  them  into  hell  at 
last,  because  all  their  labors,  prayers  and  tears,  cannot  make  an 
atonement  for  the  least  sin,  nor  merit  any  blessing  at  the  hands  of 


20  INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER. 

God  ;  some  have  declared  themselves  to  be  in  the  hands  of  God, 
that  he  can  and  may  dispose  of  them  just  as  he  pleases  ;  some  that 
God  may  glorify  himself  in  their  damnation,  and  they  wonder  that 
God  has  suffered  them  to  live  so  long,  and  has  not  cast  them  into 
hell  long  ago. 

Some  are  brought  to  this  conviction,  by  a  great  sense  of  their 
sinfuluess,  in  general,  that  they  are  such  vile  wicked  creatures  in 
heart  and  life  :  others  have  the  sins  of  their  lives  in  an  extraordinary 
manner  set  before  them,  multitudes  of  them  coming  just  then  fresh 
to  their  memory,  and  being  set  before  them  with  their  aggravations  ; 
some  have  their  minds  especially  fixed,  on  some  particular  wicked 
practice  they  have  indulged  ;  some  are  especially  convinced  by  a 
sight  of  the  corruption  and  wickedness  of  their  hearts  ;  some  from 
a  view  they  have  of  the  horridness  of  some  particular  exercises  of 
corruption,  which  they  have  had  in  the  time  of  their  awakening, 
whereby  the  enmity  of  the  heart  against  God  has  been  manifested  ; 
some  are  convinced  especially  by  a  sense  of  the  sin  of  unbelief,  the 
opposition  of  their  hearts  to  the  way  of  salvation  by  Christ,  and 
their  obstinacy  in  rejecting  him  and  his  grace." 

Did  our  limits  permit,  it  would  be  highly  interesting  and  profit- 
able to  continue  our  extracts  to  a  much  greater  length,  and  espec- 
ially to  insert  some  of  those  paragraphs,  in  which  the  exercises  of 
young  converts  are  delineated  by  the  same  masterly  hand.  But  it 
being  the  great  object  of  this  volume,  to  show  by  examples  what 
genuine  conviction  and  conversion  are,  rather  than  to  trace  out 
the  progress  of  sanctijication,  we  pass  on  to  the  memoirs. 


CHRISTIAN  MEMOIRS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CONVERSION    OF    JOHN    BUNYAN. 

The  celebrated  John  Bunyan  was  born  about  two  hun- 
dred years  ago,  in  a  small  village  called  Elston,  near 
Bedford,  which  is  about  fifty  miles  north  of  London, 
In  one  of  his  works,  he  has  given  a  considerably  minute 
account  of  his  early  life,  so  that  we  are  enabled  to  give 
our  readers  the  narrative  of  his  conversion  nearly  in  his 
own  words.     The   account   is  addressed    to   his  children, 

His  history  before  his  Conversioti. 

"  In  this  my  relation  of  the  merciful  working  of  God 
upon  my  soul,"  says  he,  "it  will  not  be  amiss,  if,  in  the 
first  place,  I  do,  in  a  few  words,  give  you  a  hint  of  my 
pedigree,  and  manner  of  bringing  up ;  that  thereby  the 
goodness  and  bounty  of  God  towards  me  maj^  be  the 
more  advanced  and  magnified  before  the  sons  of  men. 
For  my  descent,  then,  it  was,  as  is  well  known  to  many, 
of  a  low,  inconsiderable  generation  ;  my  father's  house 
being  of  that  rank  that  is  meanest,  and  most  despised  of 
all  the  families  in  the  land.  Wherefore,  I  have  not  here, 
as  others,  to  boast  of  noble  blood,  or  of  any  high  born 
*2 


22 


JOHN    BUNYAN. 


state,  according  to  the  flesh  ;  though  all  things  consider- 
ed, I  magnify  the  heavenly  Majesty,  for  that  by  this 
door  he  brought  me  into  this  world,  to  partake  of  the 
grace  and  life  that  is  in  Christ  by  the  Gospel. 

But  yet,  notwithstanding  the  meanness  and  inconsid- 
erableness  of  my  parents,  it  pleased  God  to  put  it  into  their 
hearts  to  put  me  to  school,  to  learn  both  to  read  and  to 
write ;  the  which  I  also  attained,  according  to  the  rate 
of  the  poor  men's  children,  though  to  my  shame  I  con- 
fess, I  did  soon  lose  that  little  I  learnt,  even  almost  ut- 
terly, and  that  long  before  the  Lord  did  work  his  gra- 
cious work  of  conversion  upon  my  soul. 

As  for  my  own  natural  life,  for  the  time  that  I  was 
without  God  in  the  world,  it  was,  indeed,  according  to 
the  course  of  this  world,  and  the  spirit  that  now  worketh 
in  the  children  of  disobedience.'  It  was  my  deUght  to 
be  '  taken  captive  by  the  devil  at  his  will,'  being  filled  with 
all  unrighteousness;  the  which  also  did  so  strongly 
work,  and  put  forth  itself,  both  in  my  heart  and  life,  and 
that  from  a  child,  that  I  had  but  few  equals  for  cursing, 
swearing,  lying,  and  blaspheming  the  holy  name  of  God. 
Yea,  so  settled  and  rooted  was  I  in  these  things,  that 
they  became  as  a  second  nature  to  me ;  the  which,  as  I 
have  with  soberness  considered  since,  did  so  offend  the 
Lord,  that  even  in  my  childhood  he  did  scare  and  affright 
me  with  fearful  dreams,  and  did  terrify  me  with  fearful 
visions.  For  often,  after  I  have  spent  this  and  the  other 
day  in  sin,  I  have  in  my  bed  been  greatly  afflicted,  while 
asleep,  with  the  apprehensions  of  wicked  spirits,  who 
still  as  I  then  thought,  labored  to  draw  me  away  with 
them,  of  which  I  could  never  be  rid. 

Also  I  was  during  these  years,  greatly   afflicted   and 
troubled  with  the  thoughts  of  the  fearful  torments  of 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  23 

hell-fire  ;  still  fearing,  that  it  would  be  my  lot  to  be  found 
at  last  among  those  who  are  bound  down  with  the 
chains  and  bonds  of  darkness,  unto  the  judgment  of  the 
great  day. 

These  things  I  say,  when  I  was  but  a  child,  but  nine 
or  ten  years  old,  did  so  distress  my  soul,  that  then  in  the 
midst  of  my  many  sports  and  childish  vanities,  amidst 
my  vain  companions,  I  was  often  much  cast  down,  and 
afflicted  in  my  mind  therewith,  yet  could  I  not  let  go 
my  sins. 

A  while  after  those  terrible  dreams  did  leave  me,  which 
also  I  soon  forgot  ;  for  my  pleasures  did  quickly  cut  off 
the  remembrance  of  them,  as  if  they  had  never  been : 
wherefore  with  more  greediness,  acct)rding  to  the  strength 
of  nature,  1  did  still  let  loose  the  reins  of  my  lust,  and 
delighted  in  all  transgressions  against  the  law  of  God  ; 
so  that  I  was  the  very  ringleader  of  all  the  youth  that 
kept  me  company,  in  all  manner  of  vice  and  ungodli- 
ness. Yea,  such  prevalency  had  the  lusts  and  fruits  of 
the  flesh  on  this  poor  soul  of  mine,  that  had  not  a  mira- 
cle of  precious  grace  prevented,  I  had  not  only  perished 
by  the  stroke  of  eternal  justice,  but  had  also  laid  myself 
open  even  to  the  stroke  of  those  laws  which  bring  some 
to  disgrace  and  open  shame  before  the  face  of  the  world. 

In  those  da3's  the  thought  of  religion  was  very  grie- 
vous to  me;  I  could  neither  endure  it  myself,  nor  that  any 
other  should ;  so  that  when  I  have  seen  some  read  in 
those  books  that  concerned  Christian  piety,  it  would  be  as 
it  were  a  prison  to  me.  Then  I  said  unto  God,  '  Depart 
from  me,  for  I  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways.' 
I  was  now  void  of  all  good  consideration,  heaven  and 
hell  were  both  out  of  sight  and  mind  ;  and  as  for  saving 
and  damning,  they  were  least  in  my  thoughts.     O  Lord, 


24  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

thou  knowest  my  life,  and  my  ways  were  not  hid  from 
thee! 

Bat  God  did  not  utterly  leave  me,  but  followed  me 
still,  not  with  convictions,  but  judgments;  yet  such  as 
were  mixed  with  mercy.  For  once  1  fell  into  a  creek  of 
the  sea,  and  hardly  escaped  drowning.  Another  time  I 
fell  out  of  a  boat  into  Bedford  River,  but  mercy  yet  pre- 
serv^ed  me  alive:  besides,  another  time,  being  in  the  field 
with  one  of  my  companions,  it  chanced  that  an  adder 
passed  over  the  highway,  so  I,  having  a  stick  in  my 
hand,  struck  her  over  the  back ;  and  having  stunned  her, 
1  forced  open  her  mouth  with  my  stick,  and  plucked  her 
tongue  out  with  my  fingers,  b}^  which  act,  had  not  God 
been  m.erciful  unto  me,  I  might,  by  my  desperateness, 
have  brought  myself  to  my  end. 

This  also,  I  have  taken  notice  of,  with  thanksgiving. 
When  I  was  a  soldier,  1,  with  others,  was  drawn  out  to 
go  to  a  certain  place,  to  besiege  it :  but  when  I  was  just 
r.ady  to  go,  one  of  the  company  desired  to  go  in  my 
room,  to  which  when  I  consented,  he  took  my  place ; 
and  coming  to  the  siege,  as  he  stood  sentinel,  he  was 
shot  in  the  head  with  a   musket-bullet,  and  died. 

Here,  as  I  said,  were  judgments  and  mercy,  but  nei- 
ther of  tbem  did  awaken  my  soul  to  righteousness,  where- 
fore I  sinned  still,  and  grew  more  and  more  rebellious 
against  God,  and  careless  of  my  own  salvation. 

Presently  after  this  I  changed  my  condition  into  a 
married  state,  and  my  mercy  v.-as,  to  light  upon  a  wife 
whose  father  was  counted  godly.  This  woman  and  I 
though  we  came  together  as  poor  as  poor  might  be,  not 
having  so  much  household  stuff  as  a  dish  or  spoon  be- 
twixt us  both,  yet  this  she  had  for  her  part,  '  The  Plain 
man's    Pathway  to    Heaven;'     and    the     'Practice  of 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  25 

Piety:'  which  her  father  had  left  her  wlien  he  died.  In 
these  two  books  I  would  sometimes  read  with  her,  where- 
in I  also  found  some  things  that  were  somewhat  pleasing 
to  me  :  but  all  this  while  I  met  with  no  conviction.  She 
also  would  be  often  telling  me  what  a  godly  man  her  fa- 
ther was,  and  how  he  would  reprove  and  correct  vice, 
both  in  his  house,  and  among  his  neighbors,  and  what  a 
strict  and  holy  life  he  lived  in  his  days,  both  in  word  and 
deeds. 

Wherefore  these  books,  with  the  relation,  though  they 
did  not  reach  my  heart  to  awaken  it  about  my  sad  and 
sinful  state,  yet  they  did  beget  within  me  some  desires  to 
reform  my  vicious  life,  and  fall  in  very  eagerly  with  the 
religion  of  the  times;  to  wit,  to  go  to  church  twice  a  day, 
and  that  too  with  the  foremost.  And  there,  I  would  be 
very  devout,  and  both  say  and  sing  as  others  did;  yet  I 
retained  my  wicked  life.  But  withal,  I  was  so  overrun 
with  the  spirit  of  superstition,  that  I  adored,  and  that 
with  great  devotion,  even  all  things  belonging  to  the 
church;  the  high  place,  priest,  clerk,  vestment,  service, 
&c. ;  counting  all  things  holj^  that  were  therein  contained, 
and  especially  the  priest  and  clerk  most  happy,  and  with- 
out doubt,  greatly  blessed,  because  they  were  the  servants, 
as  I  then  thought,  of  God,  and  were  principally  in  the 
holy  temple,  to  do  his  work  therein. 

But  all  this  while  I  was  not  sensible  of  the  danger  and 
evil  of  sin ;  I  was  kept  from  considering  that  sin  would 
damn  me,  what  religion  soever  I  followed,  unless  I  was 
found  in  Christ ;  nay,  I  never  thought  of  him,  nor  whe- 
ther there  was  such  a  one  or  no.  Thus  man,  while  blind, 
doth  wander,  but  wearieth  himself  with  vanit}^  for  he 
knoweth  not  the  way  to  the  city  of  God. 

But  one  day,  amongst  all  the  sermons  our  parson  made, 


26  JOHN  bunyan. 

his  subject  was  to  treat  of  the  Sabbath-day,  and  of  the 
evil  of  breaking  that,  either  with  labor,  sports  or  other- 
wise. Now  I  was,  notwithstanding  my  religion,  one 
that  took  iiiuch  delight  in  all  manner  of  vice,  and  espec- 
ially that  was  the  day  that  I  did  solace  myself  therewith  ; 
wherefore  I  fell  in  my  conscience  under  this  sermon, 
thinking  and  believing  that  he  made  that  sermon  of  pur- 
pose to  show  me  my  evil  doing.  And  at  that  time  I 
felt  what  guilt  was,  though  never  before  that  I  can  re- 
mem.bcr;  but  then  I  was,  for  the  present,  greatly  laden 
therewith,  and  so  went  home  when  the  sermon  was 
ended,  with  a  great  burden  upon  my  spirit. 

This,  for  that  instant,  did  benumb  the  sinews  of  my 
best  dehghts,  and  did  imbitter  m}^  former  pleasures  to  me ; 
but  it  lasted  not,  for  before  1  had  v/ell  dined,  the  trouble 
began  to  go  off  my  mind,  and  my  heart  returned  to  my 
old  course.  But  oh !  how  glad  was  I  that  this  trouble 
was  gone  from  me,  and  that  the  fire  was  put  out,  that  I 
might  sin  again  without  control !  Wherefore  when  I 
had  satisfied  nature  with  m}"  food,  I  shook  the  sermon 
out  of  my  mind,  and  to  my  old  custom  of  sports  and 
gaming,  1  returned  with  great  delight. 

But  the  same  day,  as  I  was  in  the  midst  of  a  game  of 
cat,  and  having  struck  it  one  blow  from  the  hole,  just  as 
I  was  about  to  strike  it  a  second  time,  a  voice  did  suddenly 
dart  from  heaven  into  my  soul,  which  said,  "  Wilt  thou 
leave  thy  sins  and  go  to  heaven  1  or  have  thy  sins  and 
^0  to  hell  ?  "  At  this  I  was  put  to  an  exceeding  maze  J 
wherefore,  leaving  my  cat  upon  the  ground,  I  looked  up 
to  heaven,  and  was  as  if  I  had,  with  the  eyes  of  my  un- 
derstanding, seen  the  Lord  Jesus  looking  down  upon  me, 
as  being  very  hotly  displeased  with  me,  and  as  if  he   did 


JOilN    BUNYAN.  27 

severely  threaten  n'ie  with  some  grievous  punishment  for 
these  and  other  ungodly  practices. 

I  had  no  sooner  thus  conceived  in  my  mind,  but  sud- 
denly, this  conclusion  was  fastened  on  my  spirit,  that  I 
had  been  a  great  and  grievous  sinner,  and  that  it  was  now 
too  late  for  me  to  look  after  heaven  ;  for  Christ  would  not 
forgive  m.e,  nor  pardon  my  transgressions.  Then  I  fell  to 
musing  on  this  also  ;  and  while  1  was  thinking  of  it,  and 
fearing  lest  it  should  be  so,  I  felt  my  heart  sink  in  despair, 
concluding  it  was  too  late,  and  therefore  I  resolved  in  my 
mind  to  go  on  in  sin  ;  for,  thought  I,  if  the  case  be  thus, 
my  state  is  surely  miserable ;  miserable  if  I  leave  my 
sins,  and  but  miserable  if  I  follow  them ;  I  can  but  be 
damned,  and  if  I  must  be  so,  1  had  as  good  be  damned 
for  many  sins,  as  damned  for  few. 

Thus  I  stood  in  the  midst  of  my  pla3^  before  all  that 
then  were  present;  but  yet  I  told  thein  nothing.  But  I 
say,  having  made  this  conclusion,  I  returned  desperately 
to  my  sport  again,  and  I  well  remember  that  presently  this 
kind  of  despair  did  so  possess  my  soul,  that  I  was  per- 
suaded I  could  never  attain  to  other  comfort  than  what  I 
could  get  in  sin,  for  heaven  was  gone  alread3^  so  that  on 
that  I  must  not  think;  wherefore,  I  found  within  me 
great  desire  to  take  my  fill  of  sin,  still  studying  what  sin 
was  yet  to  be  committed,  that  I  might  taste  the  sweet- 
ness of  it  ;  and  I  made  as  much  haste  as  I  could  to  fill 
my  belly  with  its  delicacies,  lest  I  should  die  before  1  had 
my  desires;  for  that  I  feared  greatly.  In  these  things 
I  protest  before  God,  I  lie  not,  neither  do  I  frame  this 
sort  of  speech  :  these  were  xeaWy,  strongly,  and  with 
all  my  heart,  my  desires.  The  good  Lord,  whose  mercy 
is  unsearchable,  forgive  my  transgressions. 

And  I  am  more  confident,  that  this   temptation   of  the 


28  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

devil  is  more  usual  among  poor  creatures  than  many  are 
aware  of,  even  to  overrun  the  spirits  with  a  seared  frame 
of  heart,  and  benumbing  of  conscience,  which  frame  he 
stilly  and  slyly  supplieth  with  such  despair,  that,  though 
not  much  guilt  attendeth  such,  yet  they  have  continually 
a  secret  conclusion  within  them,  that  there  is  no  hope  for 
them  ;  for  they  have  loved  sins,  therefore  after  them  they 
will  go.  'But  thou  saidst,  There  is  no  hope  :  no  ;  for  I 
have  loved  strangers,  and  after  them  will  I  go.  —  And 
they  said.  There  is  no  hope;  but  we  will  walk  every  one 
after  our  own  devices,  and  we  will  every  one  do  the  imag- 
ination of  his  evil  heart.' 

Now,  therefore,  I  went  on  in  sin  with  great  greediness 
of  mind,  still  grudging  that  I  could  not  be  satisfied  with 
it  as  I  would.  This  did  continue  v/ith  me  about  a 
month  or  more,  but  one  day  as  I  was  standing  by  a 
neighbor's  shop-window,  and  there  cursing  and  swearing, 
and  playing  the  mad-man,  after  my  wonted  manner, 
there  sat  within  the  woman  of  the  house  and  heard  me; 
who  though  she  was  a  very  loose,  ungodly  wretch,  yet 
protested  I  swore  and  cursed  at  that  most  fearful  rate, 
that  she  was  made  to  tremble  to  hear  me ;  and  told  me 
further,  that  I  was  the  ungodliest  fellow  for  swearing  she 
ever  heard  in  all  her  life ;  and  that  I  by  thus  doing,  was 
able  to  spoil  all  the  youth  in  the  whole  town,  if  they 
came  but  in  my  company. 

At  this  reproof,  I  was  silenced  and  put  to  secret  shame, 
and  that  too,  as  I  thought,  before  the  God  of  heaven ; 
wherefore  while  I  stood  there,  and  hanging  down  my 
head,  I  wished  with  all  my  heart  that  I  might  be  a  little 
child  again,  that  my  father  might  teach  me  to  speak 
•without  this  wicked  way  of  swearing ;    for,  thought  I,  1 


JOHN     BUNYAN.  29 

am  so  accustomed  to  it,  that  it  is  in  vain  for  me  to  think 
of  a  reformation  ;  for  I  thought  that  could  never  be. 

But  how  it  came  to  pass  I  know  not ;  I  did  from  that 
time  forward  so  leave  my  swearing,  that  it  was  a  great 
wonder  to  myself  to  observe  it;  and  whereas  before  1  knew 
not  how  to  speak,  unless  I  put  an  oath  before  and  another 
behind,  to  make  my  words  have  authority,  now  I  could, 
without  it,  speak  better  and  with  more  pleasantness  than 
ever  I  could  before.  All  this  while  I  knew  not  Jesus 
Christ,  neither  did  leave  my  sports  and  plays. 

But  quickly  after  this,  I  fell  into  companj^  with  one 
poor  man  who  made  profession  of  religion,  who,  as  I  then 
thought,  did  talk  pleasantly  of  the  Scriptures,  and  of  the 
matter  of  religion,  wherefore  falling  into  some  love  and 
liking  to  what  he  said,  I  betook  me  to  the  Bible,  and  be- 
gan to  take  great  pleasure  in  rending,  and  especially  the 
historical  part  thereof ;  for  as  for  Paul's  epistles,  and 
such  like  Scriptures,  I  could  not  away  with  them;  being 
as  yet  ignorant  either  of  the  corruptions  of  my  nature, 
or  of  the  want  and   worth   of  Jesus  Christ  to  save  us. 

Wherefore  I  fell  to  some  outward  reformation  both  in 
m}^  words  and  life,  and  did  set  the  commandments  before' 
me  for  my  way  to  heaven;  which  commandments  I  also 
did  strive  to  keep,  and,  as  I  thought,  did  keep  them  pret- 
ty well  sometimes,  ^nd  then  I  would  have  comfort ;  yet 
now  and  then  would  break  one,  and  so  afflict  my  con- 
science ;  but  then  I  would  repent,  and  say  I  was  sorry 
for  it,  and  promise  God  to  do  better  next  time,  and  there 
got  help  again  ;  for  then  I  thought  I  pleased  God  as  well 
as  any  man  in  Englnnd. 

Thus  I  continued  about  a  year;  all  which  time  our 
neighbors  did  take  me  to  be  a  very  godly  man,  a  new  and 
religious  man,  and   did   marvel  much   to  see  such  great 


30  JOHN    BUNYAI^. 

and  famous  alteration  in  my  life  and  manners ;  and  iti* 
deed  so  it  was,  though  I  knew  not  Christ,  nor  grace,  nor 
faith,  nor  hope ;  for  as  I  have  well  since  seen,  had  I 
then  died,  my  state  had  been  most  fearful. 

But,  I  say,  my  neighbors  marvelled  at  this  my  great 
conversion  from  prodigious  profaneness,  to  something 
like  a  moral  life,  and  truly,  so  they  m  ght.  Now  there- 
fore they  began  to  praise,  to  commend,  and  to  speak  well 
of  me,  both  to  my  face  and  behind  my  back.  Now  I 
was,  as  they  said,  become  godly  ;  now  I  was  become  a 
right  honest  nrian.  But  oh  !  when  I  nndt  rstood  those 
were  their  words  and  opinions  of  me,  it  pleased  me 
mighty  well.  For  though  as  yet  I  was  nothing  but  a 
poor  painted  hj^pocrite,  yet  1  loved  to  be  talked  of  as  one 
that  was  truly  godly.  I  was  proud  of  my  godliness,  and 
indeed,  1  did  all  I  did  either  to  be  seen,  or  to  be  well  spoken 
of  by  men  :  and  thus  I  continued  for  about  a  twelve-month 
or  more. 

All  this  while,  when  I  thought  I  kept  this  or  that 
commandment,  or  did  by  word  or  deed,  anything  that  1 
thought  was  good,  I  had  great  peace  in  my  conscience, 
and  would  think  with  myself,  God  cannot  choose  but 
be  now  pleased  with  me :  yea,  to  relate  it  in  my  own 
wa3%  I  thought  no  man  in  England  could  please  God 
better  than  I.  But  poor  wretch  as  I  was,  I  was  all  this 
while  ignorant  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  going  about  to  es- 
tablish my  own  righteousness;  and  had  perished  therein, 
had  not  God,  in  mercy,  showed  me  more  of  my  state  by 


By  this  narrative  we  are  most  forcibly  taught,  that 
there  is  no  real  pleasure  in  the  ways  of  sin.  "  There  is 
no  peace,  saiih  my  God,  to  the  wicked."  "The  way  of 
transgressors  is  hard."     Sin  promises  pleasures,  but  yields 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  31 

only  pain  :  honor,  bat  it  leads  to  disgrace ;  happiness, 
but  it  tends  to  misery.  This  Bunyan  found.  He  made 
himself  crooked  ways,  and  while  he  walked  in  them,  he 
was  getting"  farther  and  farther  from  God,  from  purity, 
from  felicity,  from  heaven.  So  also,  convictions  of  sin 
may  be  felt  by  those  who  love  it,  and  wish  not  to  part 
with  it ;  and  though  there  may  be  a  reformation  of  con- 
duct, yet  there  may  be  no  change  of  heart. 

All  who  properly  consider  the  character  of  Bunyan, 
must  be  convinced  of  the  necessity  of  a  change  in  his 
heart  and  life,  in  order  to  his  being  made  fit  for  heaven, 
and  a  suitable  companion  for  the  spirits  of  the  just  made 
perfect.  The  disparity  is  so  great  between  purity  and 
depravity,  that  we  ask,  "  How  can  two  wtilk  together 
except  they  be  agreed  ?"  And  knowing  that  God  is  im- 
mutable in  his  nature,  in  his  law,  and  also  in  his  threaten- 
ings  to  enforce  its  penalties,  we  naturally  infer  that  a 
change  must  take  place  in  the  sinner.  That  as  he  is  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,  and  walking  according  to  the 
course  of  this  world,  being  led  captive  by  the  devil  at  his 
will,  if  ever  his  mind  be  changed,  and  he  pursues  heav- 
enly and  divine  objects,  it  must  be  through  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  hy  whom  he  is  created  anew  in  Christ 
Jesus  unto  good  works,  which  God  hath  before  ordained 
that  he  should  walk  in  them.  This  gracious  change 
Bunyan  did  at  length  experience.  The  manner  in  which 
it  was  accomplished,  and  the  effects  produced  by  it,  he 
himself  relates. 


32  JOHN    BUNYAN. 


His    Convers  ion. 

"  Upon  a  day,  the  good  providence  of  God  called  me 
to  Bedford,  to  work  at  my  calling ;  and  in  one  of  the 
streets  of  that  town,  I  came  where  there  were  three  or 
four  poor  women  sitting  at  the  door,  in  the  sun,  talking 
about  the  things  of  God;  and  being  now  willing  to 
hear  their  discourse,  I  drew  near  to  hear  what  they  said, 
for  I  was  now  a  brisk  talker  of  myself,  in  the  matters  of 
religion  ;  but  I  may  sa3%  I  heard  but  understood  not  ; 
for  they  were  far  above  out  of  my  reach.  Their  talk 
was  about  a  new  birth,  the  work  of  God  in  their  hearts, 
as  also  how  they  w^ere  convinced  of  their  miserable  state 
by  nature ;  they  talked  how  God  had  visited  their  souls 
with  his  love  m  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  with  what  words 
and  promises  they  had  been  refreshed,  comforted  and  sup- 
ported against  the  temptations  of  the  devil:  moreover, 
they  reasoned  of  the  suggestions  and  temptations  of  Sa- 
tan in  particular  ;  and  told  to  each  other  by  what  means 
they  had  been  afflicted,  and  how  they  were  borne  up 
under  his  assaults.  They  also  discoursed  of  their  own 
wretchedness  of  heart,  and  of  their  unbelief;  and  did 
contemn,  slight  and  abhor  their  own  righteousness,  as 
filthy  and  insufficient  to  do  them  any  good. 

And  methought  they  spake  as  if  joy  did  make  them 
speak ;  they  spake  with  such  pleasantness  of  Scripture 
language,  and  with  appearance  of  grace  in  all  they  said, 
that  they  w^ere  to  me  as  if  they  had  found  a  new  world  ; 
as  if  they  were  people  that  dwelt  alone,  and  were  not  to 
be  reckoned  among  their  neighbors. 

At  this  I  felt  my  own  heart  be^an  to  shake,  and  mis- 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  66 

trust  my  condition  to  be  naught ;  for  I  saw  that  in  all 
my  thouglits  about  religion  and  salvation,  the  new- 
birth  had  never  entered  into  my  mind ;  neither  knew  I 
the  comfort  of  the  word  of  promise,  nor  the  deceitfulness 
and  treachery  of  my  owm  wicked  heart.  As  for  secret 
thoughts,  1  took  no  notice  of  them  ;  neither  did  I  under- 
stand what  Satan's  temptations  were,  nor  how  they  were 
to  be  withstood  and  resisted,  &c. 

Thus,  therefore,  when  I  had  heard  and  considered 
what  they  said,  1  left  them  and  went  about  my  employ- 
ment again,  but  their  talk  and  discourse  went  with  me  ; 
also  my  heart  would  tarry  with  them,  for  I  was  greatly 
affected  with  their  words,  both  because  by  them  I  was 
convinced  that  I  wanted  the  true  tokens  of  a  truly  godly 
man,  and  also,  because  by  them  I  was  convinced  of  the 
blessed  and  happy  condition  of  him  that  was  such  a  one. 

Therefore,  I  would  often  make  it  my  business  to  be 
going  again  and  again  into  the  company  of  these  poor 
people,  for  I  could  not  stay  away ;  and  the  more  I  went 
among  them,  the  more  did  I  question  my  condition ;  and 
as  I  still  do  remember,  presently  I  found  two  things  with- 
in me,  at  which  I  did  sometimes  marvel,  especially  con- 
sidering what  a  blind,  ignorant,  sordid  and  ungodlj^ 
wretch  but  just  before  I  was.  The  one  was  a  very  great 
softness  and  tenderness  of  heart,  which  caused  me  to  fall 
under  the  conviction  of  what  by  Scripture  they  asserted, 
and  the  other  was  a  great  bending  in  my  mind,  to  a  con- 
tinual meditating  on  it,  and  on  all  other  good  things, 
which  at  any  time  I  heard,  or  read  of. 

By  these  things  my  mind  was  now  so  turned  to,  and 

fixed  upon  eternity,  and  on  the  things  about  the  kingdom 

of  heaven  —  that  so  far  as  I  know,  though  as  yet,  God 

knows,  I  knew  but  little,  neither  pleasure,  nor  profits,  nor 

#4 


34  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

persuasions,  nor  threats,  could  loose  it,  or  make  it  let  go  its 
hold,  and  though  I  may  speak  it  with  shame,  yet  it  is  in 
very  deed  a  certain  truth,  it  would  then  have  been  as  dif- 
ficult for  me  to  have  taken  my  mind  from  heaven  to  earth, 
as  I  have  often  found  it  since,  to  get  again  from  earth  to 
heaven. 

One  thing  1  may  not  omit :  There  was  a  young  man 
in  our  town,  to  whom  my  heart  before  was  knit  more 
than  to  any  other,  but  he  being  a  most  wicked  creature 
for  cursing  and  swearing,  and  lewdness,  I  now  shook  him 
off,  and  forsook  his  company;  but  about  a  quarter  of  a 
year  after  I  had  left  him,  I  met  him  in  a  certain  lane,  and 
asked  him  how  he  did  ;  he,  after  his  old  swearing  and 
mad  wsij,  answered  he  was  well.  '  But  Harry,'  said  I, 
'  Why  do  you  curse  and  swear  thus  1  What  will  become 
of  you,  if  you  die  in  this  condition?'  He  answered  me 
in  a  great  anger." 

Bunj'^an  about  this  time  met  with  books  written  by 
some  enthusiastic  men  of  his  day,  who  lived  to  disgrace 
their  profession.  He  says,  "  Some  of  these  I  read,  but 
was  not  able  to  make  any  judgment  about  them;  u^here- 
fore,  as  1  read  in  them,  and  thought  upon  them,  seeing 
myself  unable  to  judge,  I  would  betake  myself  to  hearty 
prayer  in  this  manner:  'O  Lord,  I  am  a  fool,  and  not 
able  to  know  the  truth  from  error;  Lord,  leave  me  not  to 
my  own  blindness,  either  to  approve  of  or  condemn  this 
doctrine,  if  it  be  of  God,  let  me  not  despise  it :  if  it  be  of 
the  devil,  let  me  not  embrace  it.  Lord,  I  lay  my  soul  in 
this  matter  only  at  thy  foot,  let  me  not  be  deceived,  I 
humbly  beseech  thee.' 

These  people  would  also  talk  to  me  of  their  ways,  and 
condemn  me  as  legal  and  dark,  pretending  that  they  on- 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  35 

\y  had  attained  to  perfection,  that  they  could  do  what 
they  would,  and  not  sin.  Oh !  these  temptations  were 
suitable  to  my  flesh,  I  being  but  a  young  man,  and  my 
nature  in  its  prime ;  but  God,  who  had,  as  I  hoped,  de- 
signed me  for  better  things,  kept  me  in  the  fear  of  his 
name,  and  did  not  suffer  me  to  accept  of  such  accursed 
principles.  And  blessed  be  God,  who  put  it  into  my  heart 
to  cry  to  him  to  be  kept  and  directed,  still  distrusting  my 
own  wisdom,  for  1  have  seen  even  the  effects  of  that 
prayer,  in  his  preserving  me,  not  only  from  these  errors, 
but  from  those  also  that  have  sprung  up  since.  The  Bi- 
ble was  precious  to  me  in  those  days. 

And  now,  methought,  I  began  to  look  into  the  Bible 
with  new  eyes,  and  read  as  1  never  did  before,  and  espe- 
cially the  epistles  of  the  Apostle  Paul  weie  sweet  and 
pleasant  to  me ;  and  indeed  then  I  was  never  out  of  the 
Bible,  either  by  reading  or  meditation ;  still  crying  out  to 
God,  that  I  might  know  the  truth,  and  way  to  heaven 
and  glory. 

About  this  time,  the  state  and  happiness  of  these  poor 
people  at  Bedford  was  thus,  in  a  kind  of  vision,  presented 
to  me.  I  saw  as  if  they  were  on  the  sunny  side  of  some 
high  mountain,  there  refreshing  themselves  with  the 
pleasant  beams  of  the  sun,  while  I  was  shivering  and 
shrinking  in  the  cold,  afflicted  with  frost,  snow,  and  dark 
clouds:  methought  also,  betwixt  me  and  them,  I  saw  a 
wall  that  did  compass  about  this  mountain  ;  now  through 
this  wall  my  soul  did  greatly  desire  to  pass,  concluding, 
that  if  I  could,  I  would  even  go  into  the  very  rnidst  of 
them,  and  there  also  comfort  m3^self  with  the  heat  of 
their  sun.  About  this  wall  1  bethought  myself  to  go 
again  and  again,  still  prying  as  I  went,  to  see  if  I  could 
find  some  way  or  passage,  by  which  I  might  enter  there- 


36  JOHN  BUNYAN. 

in  ;  but  none  could  I  find  for  sometime ;  at  the  last,  1 
saw,  as  it  were,  a  narrow  gap,  like  a  little  door-way  in 
the  wall,  through  which  I  attempted  to  pass.  Now  the 
passage  being  very  strait  and  narrow,  I  made  many  ef- 
forts to  get  in,  but  all  in  vain,  even  until  I  was  well  nigh 
quite  beat  out,  by  striving  to  get  in  ;  at  last,  with  great 
striving,  methought  I  did  at  first  get  in  my  head,  and 
after  that,  by  a  sidelong  striving,  my  shoulders,  and  then 
my  whole  body:  then  I  was  exceeding  glad,  went  and 
sat  down  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  so  was  comforted 
with  the  light  and  heat  of  their  sun. 

But  as  yet  I  could  not  attain  to  any  comfortable  per- 
suasion that  I  had  faith  in  Christ;  but  instead  of  having 
satisfaction  here,  I  began  to  find  my  soul  to  be  assaulted 
with  fresh  doubts  about  my  future  happiness  ;  especial- 
ly with  such  as  these,  whether  I  was  elected,  and  wheth- 
er the  day  of  grace  might  not  now  be  past  and  gone? 

By  these  two  temptations  I  was  very  much  afllicted 
and  disquieted  ;  sometimes  by  one,  and  sometimes  by  the 
other  of  them.  And  first  to  speak  about  my  questioning 
my  election;  I  found  at  this  time,  that  though  I  was  in 
a  flame  to  find  the  way  to  heaven  and  glory,  and  though 
nothing  could  beat  me  off  from  this,  yet  this  question  did 
so  offend  and  discourage  me,  that  I  was,  especially, 
sometimes,  as  if  the  very  strength  of  my  body  also  had 
been  taken  away  by  the  force  and  power  thereof.  This 
Scripture  did  also  seem  to  me  to  trample  upon  all  my 
desires :  '  It  is  not  of  him  that  willeth,  nor  of  him  that 
runneth;  bat  of  God  that  showeth  mercy.'  Rom. 
9:    16. 

With  this  Scripture  1  could  not  tell  what  to  do,  for  I 
thought  that  unless  the  great  God,  of  his  infinite  grace 
and  bounty,  had  voluntarily  chosen  me  to  be  a   vessel  of 


JOHN     BUNYAN.  37 

mercy,  though  I  should  desire,  and  long,  and  labor  until 
my  heart  did  break,  no  good  could  come  of  it.  Therefore 
this  would  stick  with  me,  '  How  can  you  tell  that  you 
are  elected?  And  what  if  you  should  not?  How 
then? 

•  O  Lord,'  thought  I,  '  what  if  I  should  not  indeed  ! ' 
'  It  may  be  you  are  not,'  said  the  tempter.  •  It  may  be 
so  indeed,'  thought  I.  '  Why,  then,'  said  Satan,  '  you 
had  as  good  leave  off,  and  strive  no  farther  ;  for  if  indeed 
you  should  not  be  elected  and  chosen  of  God,  there  is  no 
hope  of  your  being  saved  ;  '  For  it  is  not  of  him  that 
willeth  nor  of  him  that  runneth  ;  but  of  God  that  show- 
eth  mercy.' 

By  these  things  I  was  driven  to  my  wit's  end,  not 
knowing  what  to  say,  or  how  to  answer  these  tempta- 
tions ;  indeed,  I  little  thought  that  Satan  had  thus  as- 
saulted me,  but  that  rather  it  was  my  own  prudence  thus 
to  start  the  question  ;  for  that  the  elect  only  obtained 
eternal  life,  that  I  without  scruple  heartily  closed  withal ; 
I  thought  I  was  sure ;  but  that  1  myself  was  one  of 
them :   there  lay  the  question. 

Thus,  for  several  days,  I  was  greatly  assaulted  and 
perplexed,  and  was  often,  when  I  have  been  walking, 
ready  to  sink  where  I  went,  with  faintness  in  mind ;  but 
one  day,  after  I  had  beeen  so  many  weeks  oppressed  and 
cast  down  therewith,  as  I  was  now  quite  giving  up  the 
ghost  of  all  my  hopes  of  ever  attaining  life,  that  sentence 
fell  with  weight  upon  my  spirit,  '  Look  at  the  genera- 
tions of  old  and  see ;  did  ever  any  trust  in  God  and  were 
confounded  ? ' 

At  this  I  was  greatly  enlightened,  and  encouraged  in 
my  soul ;  for  thus,  at  that  very  instant,  it  was  expounded 
to   me:    '  Begin  at  the  beo-inning  of  Genesis,    and   read 


38  JOHN     BUNYAN. 

to  the  end  of  the  Revelation,  and  see  if  you  can  find 
that  there  were  ever  any  that  trusted  in  the  Lord  and 
were  confounded.'  So  coming  home  I  presentlj^  went  to 
my  Bible,  to  see  if  I  could  find  that  saymg;,  not  doubting 
but  to  find  it  presently  ;  for  it  was  so  fresh,  and  with  such 
strength  and  comfort  on  my  spirit,  that  it  was  as  if  it 
talked  with  me.  WeU  I  looked,  but  I  found  it  not ;  only 
it  abode  upon  me. 

Thus  I  continued  above  a  year,  and  could  not  find  the 
place;  but  at  last,  casting  my  eye  upon  the  Apocryphal 
books,  I  found  it  in  Ecclesiasticus,  '  Look  at  the  genera- 
tions of  old  and  see,  did  ever  any  trust  in  the  Lord  and 
was  confounded?  or  did  any  abide  in  his  fear  and  was 
forsaken  1  or  whom  did  he  ever  despise  tliat  called  upon 
him?'  This  at  the  first  did  somewhat  daunt  me;  but 
because  by  this  time  I  had  got  more  experience  of  the 
love  and  kindness  of  God,  it  troubled  m.e  less,  especially 
when  I  considered  that  though  it  was  not  in  those  texts 
that  we  call  holy  and  canonical,  yet  forasmuch  as  this 
sentence  was  the  sum  and  substance  of  many  of  the 
promises,  it  was  my  duty  to  take  the  comfort  of  it ;  and 
I  bless  God  for  that  word,  for  it  was  of  good  to  me: 
that  word  doth  still  oft-times  shine  before  my  face. 

After  this,  that  other  doubt  did  come  with  strength 
upon  me,  'But  how  if  the  day  of  grace  should  be  past 
and  gone?  How  if  you  have  overstood  the  day  of  mer- 
cy?' Now  I  remember  that  one  day  as  I  was  walking 
in  the  country,  I  was  much  in  the  thoughts  of  this, 
'  But  how  if  the  day  of  grace  is  past  ?  '  And  to  aggra- 
vate my  trouble,  the  tempter  presented  to  my  mind  those 
good  people  of  Bedford,  and  suggested  this  unto  me, 
that  these  being  converted   already,   they   were   all   that 


JOHN     BUNYAN.  39 

God  would  save  in  those  parts ;  and  that  I  came  too 
late,  for  these  had  got  the  blessing  before  I  came. 

Now  I  was  in  great  distress,  thinking  in  very  deed 
that  this  might  well  be  so,  wherefore  I  went  up  and 
down,  bemoaning  my  sad  condition,  counting  myself  far 
worse  than  a  thousand  fools,  for  standing  off  thus  long, 
and  spending  so  many  years  in  sin  as  i  had  done ;  still 
crying  out,  O  that  I  had  turned  sooner !  O  that  1  had 
turned  seven  years  ago  !  It  made  me  also  angry  w^ith 
myself  to  think  that  1  should  have  no  more  wit,  but  to 
trifle  away  my  time,  till  my  soul  and  heaven  were 
lost. 

But  when  I  had  been  long  vexed  with  this  fear,  and 
was  scarce  able  to  take  one  step  more,  just  about  the  same 
place  where  I  received  my  other  encouragement,  these 
words  broke  in  upon  my  mind,  '  Compel  them  to  come  in 
that  my  house  may  be  filled  ; '  '  And  yd  there  is  room.' 
Luke  14:  22,23.  These  words,  but  especially  'And 
yet  there  is  room,'  were  sweet  words  to  me;  for  truly 
I  thought  that  by  them  I  saw  there  was  place  enough  in 
heaven  for  me;  and  moreover,  that  when  the  Lord  Jesus 
did  speak  these  words,  he  then  did  think  of  me;  and  that 
he  knowing  that  the  lime  would  come,  that  I  should  be  af- 
flicted with  fear,  that  there  was  no  place  left  for  me  in 
his  bosom,  did  before  speak  this  word,  and  leave  it  upon 
record,  that  I  might  find  help  thereby  against  this  vile 
temptation.     This  I  then  verily  believed. 

In  the  light  and  encouragement  of  this  word  I  went 
for  some  time ;  and  the  comfort  was  the  more,  when  I 
thought  that  the  Lord  Jesus  should  think  on  me  so  long 
ago,  and  that  he  should  speak  those  words  on  purpose  for 
my  sake ;  for  I  did  think  verily,  that  he  did  on  pur- 
pose speak  thern  to  encourage  me  withal. 


40  JOHN     BUNYAN. 

But  I  was  not  without  my  temptations  to  go  back 
again ;  temptations,  I  say,  both  from  Satan,  mine  own 
heart,  and  carnal  acquaintance  ;  but  I  thank  God  these 
were  outweighed  by  that  sound  sense  of  death,  and  of  the 
day  of  judgment,  which  abode  as  it  were,  continually  in 
my  view;  I  would  often  also  think  of  Nebuchadnezzar; 
of  whom  It  is  said,  *  He  had  given  him  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  earth,  and  for  the  majesty  that  he  gave  him,  all 
people,  nations,  and  languages,  trembled  and  feared  be- 
fore him ;  whom  he  would  he  slew,  and  whom  he  would 
he  kept  alive,  and  whom  he  would  he  set  up,  and  whom 
he  would  he  put  down.  '  Yet,'  thought  I,  '  if  this  great 
man  had  all  his  portion  in  this  world,  one  hour  in  hell 
would  make  him  forget  all:'  which  consideration  was  a 
great  help  to  me. 

I  found  by  the  word,  that  those  that  must  be  glorified 
with  Christ  in  another  world,  must  be  called  by  him 
here  ;  called  to  the  partaking  of  a  share  in  his  word  and 
righteousness,  and  to  the  comforts  and  first  fruits  of  his 
Spirit ;  and  to  a  peculiar  interest  in  all  those  heavenly 
things,  which  do  indeed  prepare  the  soul  for  that  rest  and 
house  of  glory,  which  is  in  heaven  above. 

Here  again  I  was  at  a  very  stand,  not  knowing  what 
to  do,  fearing  I  was  not  called  ;  '  for,'  thought  I,  'if  I  be 
not  called,  what  then  can  can  do  me  good  ?  None  but 
those  who  are  effectually  called  inherit  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  But  oh  how  I  now  loved  those  words  which 
spake  of  a  Christian's  calling!  as  when  the  Lord  said 
to  one,  '  Follow  me,'  and  to  another,  '  Come  after  me  : ' 
and  'oh,'  thought  I,  that  he  would  say  this  to  me  too; 
how  gladly  would  I  run  after  him  I  ' 

I  cannot  now  express  with  what  longings  and  breath- 
ings in  my  soul  I  cried  to    Christ   to  call  me.     Thus  I 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  41 

continued  for  a  time  all  on  a  flame  to  be  converted  to 
Jesus  Christ;  and  did  also  see  at  that  day,  such  glory  in 
a  converted  state,  that  1  could  not  be  contented  without  a 
share  therein.  Gold  !  —  Could  it  have  been  gotten  for 
gold,  what  would  I  have  given  for  it !  Had  I  the  whole 
world,  it  had  all  gone  ten  thousand  times  over  for  this, 
•that  my  soul  might  have  been  in  a  converted  state. 

How  lovely  now  was  every  one  in  my  eyes  that  1 
thought  to  be  converted,  whether  man  or  woman  !  They 
shone,  they  walked  like  a  people  that  carried  the  broad 
'  seal  of  heaven  about  them.  Oh  !  I  saw  the  '  lot  was  fall- 
en to  them  in  pleasant  places,  and  they  had  a  goodly 
heritage.'  But  that  which  made  me  sick,  w^as  what 
Christ  said  in  St.  Mark,  '  He  went  up  into  a  mountain, 
and  called  to  him  whom  he  would,  and  they  came  unto 
him.'   Mark  3:    13. 

This  Scripture  made  rne  faint  and  fear,  yet  it  kindled 
fire  in  my  soul.  That  which  made  me  fear,  was  this,  lest 
Christ  should  have  no  liking  to  me,  for  he  called  whom  he 
would.  But  oh  the  glory  that  I  saw  in  that  condition,  did 
so  engage  my  heart,  that  I  could  seldom  read  of  any  that 
Christ  did  call,  but  I  presently  wished,  '  Would  I  had 
been  in  their  clothes,  would  I  had  been  born  Peter: 
would  I  had  been  born  John ;  or,  would  I  had  been  by 
and  heard  him  when  he  called  them,  how  would  I  have 
cried,  O  Lord,  call  me  also  !  But,  oh,  I  feared  he  would 
not  call  me ! ' 

And  truly,  the  Lord  let  me  go  thus  many  months  to- 
gether, and  showed  me  nothing,  either  that  I  was  already, 
or  should  be  called  hereafter;  but  at  last  after  much 
time  spent,  and  many  groans  to  God  that  I  might  be 
made  partaker  of  the  holy  and  heavenly  calling,  that 
word  came  in  upon  me :  '  I  will  cleanse  their  blood,  that 
5 


42  JOHN    BIJNYAN. 

I  have  not  cleansed,  for   the   Lord    dwelleth   in  Zion. 
These  words  I  thought  were  sent  to  encourage  me  to 
wait  still  upon  God  ;  and  signified  unto  me,  that  if  I  were 
not  already,  the  time  might  come,  when  I  might  be  in 
truth  converted  unto  Christ. 

About  this  time  I  began  to  break  my  mind  to  those 
poor  people  in  Bedford,  and  to  tell  them  my  condition  ; 
which  when  they  had  heard,  they  told  Mr.  Gifford  of  me, 
who  himself  also  took  occasion  to  talk  with  me;  and 
was  willing  to  be  well  persuaded  of  me,  though  I  think 
from  little  grounds:     but  he  invited  me  to    his   house, 
where  I  should  hear  him  confer  with  others,  about  the 
dealings  of  God  with  their  souls:  from  all  which  I  still 
received  more  conviction,  and  from  that  time  began  to  see 
something  of  the  vanity  and  inward  wretchedness  of  my 
wicked  heart;  for  as  yet  I  knew  no  great  matter  therein. 
But  now  it  began  to  be  discovered  unto  me,  and  also  to 
work  at  that  rate  as  it  never  did  before.     Now  I  evidently 
found,  that  lusts  and  corruptions  put   forth  themselves 
within  me,  in  wicked  thoughts  and  desires,  which  I  did 
not  regard  before ;  my  desires  also  for  life  and  heaven 
began  to  fail.     I  found  also,  that  whereas  before  my  soul 
was  full  of  longing  after  God,  now  it  began  to  hanker 
after  every  foolish  vanity ;  yea,  my  heart  would  not  be 
moved  to  mind  that  which  was  good ;    it  began  to  be 
careless,  both  of  my  soul  and  heaven  ;  it  would  now  con- 
tinually  hang  back,  both  to,   and  in  every  duty;  and 
was  as  a  clog  on  the  leg  of  a  bird,  to  hinder  it  from 
flying. 

Nay,  I  thought  now  I  grew  worse  and  worse  ;  now  I 
am  farther  from  conversion  than   I   ever   was    before 
wherefore  I  began  to  entertain   such  discouragement  in 
my  heart,  as  laid  me  low  as  hell.     If  now  I  should  hav 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  43 

burned  at  the  stake,  I  could  not  believe  that  Christ  had  a 
love  for  me ;  alas,  I  could  neither  hear  him,  nor  see  him, 
nor  feel  him,  nor  savor  any  of  his  things ;  I  was  driven 
as  with  a  tempest,  my  heart  would  be  unclean,  and  the 
Canaanites  would  dwell  in  the  land. 

Sometimes  I  would  tell  my  condition  to  the  people  of 
God,  which  when  they  heard  they  would  pity  me,  and 
would  tell  me  of  the  promises ;  but  they  had  as  good 
have  told  me  that  I  must  reach  the  sun  with  my  finger, 
as  have  bidden  me  receive  or  rely  upon  the  promises : 
and  as  soon  I  should  have  done  it.  All  my  sense  and 
feeling  were  against  me ;  and  I  saw  I  had  a  heart  that 
would  sin,  and  that  lay  under  a  law  that  would  con- 
demn. 

These  things  have  often  made  me  think  of  the  child 
which  the  father  brought  to  Christ,  '  who  while  he  was 
yet  coming  to  him,  was  thrown  down  by  the  devil,  and  also 
so  rent  and  torn  by  him,  that  he  lay,  and  wallowed, 
foaming.'  Farther  in  these  days,  I  would  find  my  heart 
shut  itself  up  against  the  Lord  and  against  his  holy 
word ;  I  have  found  my  unbelief  to  set,  as  it  were,  the 
shoulder  to  the  door,  to  keep  him  out ;  and  that  too,  even 
then,  when  I  have  with  many  a  bitter  sigh  cried,  •  Good 
Lord,  break  it  open  !  '  Lord,  break  these  gates  of  brass, 
and  cut  these  bars  of  iron  asunder.' 

But  all  this  while,  as  to  the  act  of  sinning,  I  was  never 
more  tender  than  now ;  I  durst  not  take  a  pin  or  stick, 
though  but  so  big  as  a  straw ;  for  my  conscience  now^ 
was  sore,  and  would  smart  at  every  touch.  I  could  not 
now  tell  how  to  speak  my  words,  for  fear  I  should  mis- 
place them.  Oh  how  cautiously  did  T  then  go,  in  all  I 
did  or  said !  1  found  myself  as  in  a  miry  bog  that  shook  if 
I  did  but  stir,  and  was,  as  there,  left  both  of  God,  and 
Christ,  and  the  Spirit,  and  all  good  things. 


44  JOHN   eunyan. 

But  I  observed,  though  I  was  such  a  great  sinner  before 
conversion,  yet  God  never  much  charged  the  guilt  of  the 
sins  of  my  ignorance  upon  me  ;  only  he  showed  me  1  was 
lost  if  I  had  not  Christ  because  I  had  been  a  sinner.  I 
saw  that  I  wanted  a  perfect  righteousness  to  present  me 
without  fault  before  God,  and  this  righteousness  was  no- 
where to  be  found,  but  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ. 

But  my  original  and  inward  pollution  ;  that,  that  w^as 
my  plague  and  affliction,  that  I  saw  at  a  dreadful  rate, 
always  putting  forth  itself  within  me ;  that  I  had  the 
guilt  of  to  amazement :  by  reason  of  that,  I  was  more 
loathsome  in  mine  own  eyes,  than  a  toad,  and  1  thought 
I  w^as  so  in  God's  eyes  too.  Sin  and  corruption,  I  said, 
would  as  naturally  bubble  out  of  my  heart,  as  w^ater  would 
out  of  a  fountain.  I  thought  that  every  one  had  a  better 
heart  than  I  had  ;  I  could  have  changed  hearts  wdth 
anybody;  I  thought  none,  but  the  devil  himself  could 
equal  me  for  inward  wickedness  and  pollution  of  mind. 
I  fell  therefore  at  the  sight  of  my  own  vileness  deeply  into 
despair;  for  I  concluded  that  this  condition  that  I  was  in 
could  not  stand  with  a  state  of  grace.  Sure  thought  I, 
I  am  forsaken  of  God  ;  sure  I  am  given  up  to  the  devil  and 
to  a  reprobate  mind;  and  thus  I  continued  a  long  while, 
even  for  some  j^ears  together. 

While  I  was  thus  afflicted  w^ith  the  fears  of  my  own 
damnation,  there  were  two  things  which  w^ould  make  me 
wonder ;  the  one  was,  when  I  saw^  old  people  hunting  after 
the  things  of  this  life,  as  if  they  should  live  here  always;  the 
other  was,  when  I  found  professors  much  distressed  and  cast 
down,  when  they  met  with  outward  losses  ;  as  of  husband, 
wife,  child,  &c.  'Lord,'  thought  I,  'what  ado  is  here 
about  such  little  thmgs  as  these  !  What  seeking  after 
carnal  things,  by  some,  and  what  grief  in  others  for  the 


JOHN     BUNYAN.  45 

loss  of  them  !  If  they  so  much  labor  after,  and  shed  so 
many  tears  for  the  things  of  this  present  life,  how  am  I 
to  be  bemoaned,  pitied,  and  prayed  for  !  My  soul  is  dying, 
my  soul  is  damning.  Were  my  soul  but  in  a  good  con- 
dition, and  were  I  but  sure  of  it,  ah  how  rich  should  I 
esteem  mj^self,  though  blessed  but  with  bread  and  water ! 
I  should  count  those  but  small  afflictions,  and  should  bear 
them  as  little  burdens.  A  wounded  spirit  who  can 
bear?' 

And  though  I  was  much  troubled  and  tossed  and  afflict- 
ed, with  the  sight,  and  sense,  and  terror  of  my  own  wick- 
edness, yet  I  was  afraid  to  let  this  sight  and  sense  go  quite 
off  my  mind ;  for  I  found,  that  unless  guilt  of  conscience 
was  taken  off  the  right  way,  that  is  by  the  blood  of  Christ, 
a  man  grew  rather  worse  for  the  loss  of  his  trouble  of 
mind.  Wherefore  if  my  sense  of  guilt  lay  hard  upon  me, 
then  would  I  cry  that  the  blood  of  Christ  might  take  it 
off-,  and  if  it  was  going  off  without  it,  (for  the  sense  of 
sin  would  be  sometimes  as  if  it  would  die,  and  go  quite 
away,)  then  I  would  also  strive  to  fetch  it  upon  my  heart 
again,  by  bringing  the  punishment  of  sin  in  hell  fire  upon 
my  spirits ;  and  would  crj',  '  Lord,  let  it  not  go  off  my 
heart,  but  the  right  way,  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  the 
application  of  thy  mercj^  through  him  to  my  soul ; '  for 
this  Scripture  did  lay  much  upon  me,  'Without  shedding 
of  blood  there  is  no  remission.'  And  that  which  made 
me  the  more  afraid  of  this,  was,  because  I  had  seen  some, 
who,  though  when  they  were  under  the  wounds  of  con- 
science, would  cr}^  and  pray ;  yet  seeking  rather  present 
ease  for  their  trouble  than  pardon  for  their  sin,  they  cared 
not  how  they  lost  their  sense  of  guilt  so  they  get  it  out  of 
their  mind.  Now  having  got  off  the  wrong  way,  it  was 
not  sanctified  unto  them ;  but  they  grew  harder  and 
•5 


46  JOHN     BUNYAN. 

blinder,  and  more  wicked  after  their  trouble.  This  made 
me  afraid,  and  made  me  crj  to  God  the  more,  that  it 
might  not  be  so  with  me. 

And  now  I  was  sorrj'-  that  God  had  made  me  a  man ; 
for  I  feared  1  was  a  reprobate;  I  counted  man,  as  uncon- 
verted, the  most  doleful  of  all  creatures.  Thus  being 
afflicted,  and  tossed  about  my  sad  condition,  I  counted 
myself  alone,  and  above  the  most  of  m.en  unblessed. 

Yea,  I  thought  it  impossible  that  ever  1  should  attain 
to  such  godliness  of  heart,  as  to  thank  God  that  he 
had  made  me  a  man.  Man,  indeed,  is  the  most  noble,  by 
creation,  of  all  creatures  in  the  visible  world  ;  but  by  sin, 
he  has  made  himself  the  most  ignoble.  The  beasts,  birds, 
fishes,  &c.  I  blessed  their  condition,  for  they  had  not  a 
sinful  nature ;  they  were  not  obnoxious  to  the  wrath  of 
God  ;  they  were  not  to  go  to  hell  after  death  ;  I  could 
therefore  have  rejoiced,  had  my  condition  been  any  of 
theirs. 

Tn  this  condition  I  went  a  great  while,  but  when  the 
comforting  time  was  come,  I  heard  one  preach  a  sermon 
from  these  words  in  Solomon's  Song,  '  Behold  thou  art 
fair,  my  love ;  behold  thou  art  fair.'  But  at  that  time  he 
made  these  two  words,  'my  love,'  his  chief  and  subject 
matter  from  which,  after  he  had  a  little  opened  the  text,  he 
observed  these  several  conclusions: 

1.  That  the  church,  and  so  every  saved  soul  is  Christ's 
love,  when  loveless. 

2.  Christ's  love  without  a  cause. 

3.  Christ's  love,  which  hath  been  hated  of  the 
world. 

4  Christ's  love,  when  under  temptation  and  under  dis- 
traction. 

5.  Christ's  love,  from  first  to  last. 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  47 

But  I  got  nothing  by  what  he  said  at  present ;  only 
when  he  came  to  the  application  of  the  fourth  particular, 
this  was  the  word  he  said,  '  If  it  be  so,  that  the  saved  soul 
is  Christ's  love  when  under  temptation  and  distraction  ; 
then,  poor  tempted  soul,  when  thou  art  assaulted,  and 
afflicted  with  temptations,  and  the  hidings  of  God's  face, 
yet  think  on  these  t^vo  words,  'my love,'  still. 

So  as  I  was  going  home,  these  two  words  carne  again 
into  my  thoughts;  and  I  well  remember,  as  they  came  in, 
I  said  thus  in  my  heart,  '  AVhat  shall  1  get  by  thinking 
on  these  two  words?  '  This  thoug_ht  had  no  sooner  passed 
through  my  heart,  but  these  words  began  to  kindle  in  my 
spirit,  '  Thou  art  my  love,  thou  art  my  love,'  twenty 
times  together;  and  still  as  they  ran  through  my  mind, 
they  waxed  stronger  and  warmer,  and  began  to  make  me 
look  up;  but  being  as  yet  between  hope  and  fear,  I  still 
replied  in  my  heart,  '  But  is  it  true,  but  is  it  true?'  At 
which,  this  sentence  fell  upon  me,  '  He  wist  not  that  it 
was  true,  which  was  done  unto  him  of  the  angel.' 

Then  I  began  to  give  place  to  the  word  which  with 
power  did  over  and  over  make  this  joyful  sound  within 
my  soul,  '  Thou  art  my  love,  thou  art  my  love ;  and 
nothing  shall  separate  thee  from  my  love.'  And  with 
that  m}^  heart  was  filled  with  comfort  and  hope,  and  now 
I  could  believe  that  my  sins  would  be  forgiven  me  :  yea,  I 
was  now  so  taken  with  the  love  and  mercy  of  God,  that 
I  remember  I  could  not  tell  how  to  contain  till  I  got  home. 
I  thought  I  could  have  spoken  of  his  love,  and  have  told 
of  his  mercy  to  me,  even  to  the  very  crows  that  sat  upon 
the  ploughed  lands  before  me,  had  they  been  capable  to 
have  understood  me;  wherefore  I  said  in  my  soul,  with 
much  gladness,  '  Well,  would  I  had  pen  and  ink  here,  I 
would  write  this  down  before  I  go  any  farther ;  for  surely, 


48  JOHN     BUNYAN. 

I  shall  not  forget  this  fortj^  ye^rs  hence  ! '  But  alas ! 
within  less  than  forty  days  I  began  to  question  all  again; 
which  made  me  begin  to  question  all  still. 

Yet  still  at  times  1  was  helped  to  believe,  that  it  was  a 
true  manifestation  of  grace  unto  my  soul,  though  I  had 
lost  much  of  the  life  and  savor  of  it.  Now  about  a 
a  week  or  a  fortnight  after  this  I  was  much  followed  by 
this  Scripture,  '  Simon,  Simon,  behold,  Satan  hath  desired 
to  have  you ; '  and  sometimes  it  would  sound  so  loud 
within  me,  yea,  and  as  it  were,  call  so  strongly  after  me, 
that  once,  above  all  the  rest,  1  turned  my  head  over  my 
shoulder,  thinking  verily,  that  some  man  behind  me  had 
called  me  ;  *  being  at  a  great  distance,  methought  he  call- 
ed so  loud.  It  came,  as  I  have  thought  since,  to  have 
stirred  me  up  to  prayer,  and  to  watchfulness ;  it  came  to 
acquaint  me,  that  a  cloud  and  a  storm  were  coming  down 
upon  me :  but  I  understood  it  not. 

For  about  the  space  of  a  month  after,  a  very  great  storm 
came  down  upon  me,  which  handled  me  twenty  times 
worse  than  all  I  had  met  with  before;  it  came  stealing 
upon  me,  now  by  one  piece,  then  by  another.  First,  all 
my  comfort  was  taken  from  me ;  then  darkness  seized 
upon  me ;  after  which,  whole  floods  of  blasphemies,  both 
against  God,  and  Christ,  and  the  Scriptures,  were  poured 
upon  my  spirit,  to  my  great  confusion  and  astonishment. 
These  blasphemous  thoughts  were  such  as  stirred  up 
questions  in  me  against  the  very  being  of  God,  and  of  his 
only-begotten  Son :  as  whether  there  v/ere,  in  truth,  a 
God,  or  Christ ;  and  whether  the  holy  Scriptures  were 

*  It  is  not  surprising  that  a  man  so  excitable  and  ardent  asBun- 
yan,  should  have  had  his  imagination  thus  disturbed,  by  the  long 
continuation  of  such  strong  emotion. 


JOHN     BUNYAN.  49 

not  rather  a  fable,  and  cunning  story,  than  the  holy  and 
pure  word  of  God. 

These  things  did  sink  me  into  very  deep  despair ;  fori 
conduded  that  such  things  could  not  possibly  be  found 
amongst  them  that  loved  God.  Often,  when  these  temp- 
tations had  been  with  force  upon  me,  did  I  com.pare  my- 
self with  the  case  of  a  child,  whom  some  gipsey  hath  by 
force  taken  up  in  her  arms,  and  is  carrying  from  friend 
and  country.  Resist  sometimes  I  did,  and  also  shriek 
and  cry ;  but  yet  I  was  bound  in  the  wings  of  the  temp- 
tation, and  the  wind  would  carry  me  away.  I  thought 
also  of  Saul,  and  of  the  evil  spirit  that  did  possess  him; 
and  did  greatly  fear  that  my  condition  was  the  same 
with  his. 

In  these  days,  when  I  have  heard  others  talk  of  what 
was  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  then  would  the 
tempter  so  provoke  me  to  desire  to  sin  that  sin,  that  I  was 
as  if  I  could  not,  must  not,  neither  should  be  quiet  until  I 
had  committed  it.  Now  no  sin  would  serve  but  that,  if 
it  were  to  be  committed  by  speaking  of  such  a  word,  then 
I  have  been  as  if  my  mouth  would  have  spoken  that 
word,  whether  I  would  or  no. 

Now  again,  1  beheld  the  condition  of  the  dog  and  toad, 
and  counted  the  estate  of  everything  that  God  had  made 
far  belter  than  this  dreadful  state  of  mine,  and  such  as 
my  companions  were.  Yea,  gladly  would  I  have  been 
in  the  condition  of  a  dog  or  a  horse  ;  for  I  knew  they  had 
no  souls  to  perish  under  the  everlasting  weight  of  hell  or 
sin,  as  mine  was  like  to  do.  Nay,  and  though  I  saw  this, 
felt  this,  and  was  broken  to  pieces  with  it,  yet  that  which 
added  to  my  sorrow  was,  that  I  could  not  find  that,  with 
all  my  soul,  I  did  desire  deliverance.  That  Scripture 
did  also  tear  and  rend  m}^  soul  in  the  midst  of  these  dis- 


50  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

tractions.  '  The  wicked  are  like  the  troubled  sea,  which 
cannot  rest,  whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt.'  *  There 
is  no  peace  to  the  wicked,  saith  my  God.' 

And  now  my  heart  was,  at  times,  exceeding  hard.  If 
I  would  have  given  a  thousand  pounds  for  a  tear,  I  could 
not  shed  one  ;  no  nor  sometimes  scarce  desire  to  shed  one. 
I  was  much  dejected  to  think  that  this  would  be  my  lot. 
I  saw  some  could  mourn  and  lament  their  sin:  and 
others,  ajrain,  could  rejoice  and  bless  God  for  Christ ;  and 
others,  again,  could  quietly  talk  of,  and  remember  with 
gladness  the  word  of  God,  while  I  on]y,  was  m  the  storm 
or  tempest.  This  much  sunk  me  ;  1  thought  my  condi- 
tion was  alone  ;  I  world  therefore  much  bewail  my  hard 
hap,  but  get  out  of,  or  get  rid  of  these  things,  I  could  not. 

While  this  temptation  lasted,  which  was  about  a  year, 
I  could  attend  upon  none  of  the  ordinances  of  God,  but 
with  sore  and  great  affliction. 

In  prayer  also,  I  have  been  greatly  troubled  at  this 
time ;  the  devil  would  be  continually  at  me  in  time  of 
prayer.  '  Have  done,  break  off;  make  haste,  you  have 
prayed  enough,'  and  'stay  no  longer;'  still  drawing  my 
mind  away.  Sometimes,  also,  he  would  cast  in  such 
wicked  thoughts  as  these,  that  I  must  pray  to  him,  or 
for  him  :  I  have  thought  sometimes  of  that,  '  fall  down  ; ' 
or,  '  if  thou  wilt  fall  down  and  worship  m.e.'  Also,  when 
because  I  have  had  wandering  thoughts  in  the  time  of 
this  duty,  I  have  labored  to  compose  my  mind,  and  fix  it 
upon  God,  then  with  great  force,  hath  the  tempter  labor- 
ed to  distract  me,  and  confound  me,  and  to  turn  away  my 
mind. 

Yet  at  times  I  would  have  some  strong  and  heart-af- 
fecting apprehensions  of  God,  and  the  reality  of  the  truth 
of  his  gospel.     But,  oh,  how  would  my  heart  at  such 


JOHN     BUNYAN.  51 

times  put  forth  itself  in  inexpressible  groanings !  My 
whole  soul  was  then  in  every  word  ;  I  would  cry  with 
pangs  after  God,  that  he  would  be  merciful  unto  me. 
But  then  I  would  be  daunted  again  with  such  conceits  as 
these.  I  would  think  that  God  did  mock  at  these  my 
prayers,  saying,  and  that  in  the  audience  of  the  holy  an- 
gels, '  This  poor  simple  wretch  doth  hanker  after  me,  as 
if  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  my  mercy  but  to  bestow  it  on 
such  as  he.  Alas,  poor  soul !  how  art  thou  deceived ! 
It  is  not  for  such  as  thee  to  have  favor  with  the  Highest.' 

Then  hath  the  tempter  come  upon  me,  also,  with  such 
discouragements  as  these :  '  you  are  very  hot  for  mercy, 
but  I  will  cool  you ;  this  frame  shall  not  last  always ; 
many  have  been  as  hot  as  you  for  awhile,  but  1  have 
quenched  then-  zeal;  and  with  this,  such,  and  such,  who 
were  fallen  off,  would  be  set  before  mine  eyes.  Then  I 
would  be  afraid  that  I  should  do  so  too.  '  But,'  thought 
I,  '  [  am  glad  this  comes  into  my  mind ;  well,  I  will 
watch  and  take  what  care  I  can,'  '  Though  3^ou  do,' 
said  Satan,  '  I  shall  be  too  hard  for  you  ;  I  will  cool  you 
insensibly,  by  degrees,  by  little  and  little.' 

'What  care  I,'  sailh  he,  'though  I  be  seven  years  in 
chilling  your  heart,  if  I  can  do  it  at  last?  continued 
rocking  will  lull  a  crying  child  asleep:  I  v; ill  ply  it  close, 
but  I  will  have  my  end  accomiplished.  Though  you  be 
burning  hot  at  present,  I  can  pull  you  from  this  fire,  I 
shall  have  you  cold  before  it  be  long.' 

These  things  brought  me  into  great  straits ;  for  as  I 
at  present  could  not  find  myself  fit  for  present  death,  so 
I  thought  to  live  long  would  make  me  yet  more  unfit ; 
for  time  would  make  me  forget  all,  and  wear  out  even 
the  remembrance  of  the  evil  of  sin,  the  worth  of  heaven, 
and  the  need  I  had  of  the  blood  of  Christ  to  wash  me, 


52  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

both  in  mind  and  thought.  But  I  thank  Christ  Jesus, 
these  things  did  not  at  present  make  me  slack  my  cry'mg, 
but  rather  did  put  me  more  upon  it,  like  her  who  met 
with  the  adulterer,  Deut.  xxii.  26,  in  which  days  that 
was  a  good  word  to  me,  after  I  had  suffered  ihcse  things 
awhile :  '  I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor 
angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  pou-ers,  nor  things  present, 
nor  things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other 
creature  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God, 
which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord.'  And  now  I  hoped 
long  life  would  not  destroy  me,  nor  make  me  miss  of 
heaven. 

I  had,  also,  once  a  sweet  glance  from  that  text,  '  For 
he  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us,  who  knew  no  sin, 
that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him.' 
I  remember  that  one  day,  as  I  was  sitting  in  my  neigh- 
boi-'s  house,  and  there  was  very  sad  at  the  consideration 
of  my  man}^  blasphemies,  and  as  I  was  sajing  in  my 
mind,  what  ground  have  I  to  think  that  I,  who  have 
been  so  vile  and  abominable,  should  ever  inherit  eternal 
life?  that  word  came  suddenly  upon  me,  '  What  shall  we 
say  to  these  things?  if  God  be  for  us,  who  can  be  against 
us  ? '  That  also  was  an  help  unto  me,  '  Because  I  live 
ye  shall  live  also.'  But  these  words  w^ere  but  hints, 
touches,  and  short  visits,  though  very  sweet  when  pres- 
ent; only  they  lasted  not ;  but  like  to  Petei-'s  sheet,  of  a 
sudden  were  caught  up  from  me,  to  heaven  again. 

But  afterwards  the  Lord  did  more  fuWy  and  graciously 
discover  himself  unto  me,  and,  indeed,  did  not  onlj^  quite 
deliver  me  from  the  guilt  that  by  these  things  was  laid 
upon  my  conscience,  but  also  from  the  very  filth  thereof; 
for  the  temptation  was  removed,  1  was  put  into  my  right 
mind  again,  as  other  Christians  were. 


JOHN    BUNYAN,  53 

I  remember  one  day,  as  I  was  travelling  into  the  coun- 
try and  musing  on  the  wickedness  and  blasphemy  of  my 
heart,  and  considering  the  enmity  that  was  in  me  to  God, 
that  Scripture  came  into  my  mind,  '  He  hath  made  peace 
by  the  blood  of  his  cross ; '  by  which  I  was  made  to  see, 
both  again,  and  again,  that  God  and  my  soul  were  friends 
by  his  blood ;  yea,  I  saw  that  the  justice  of  God  and  my 
sinful  soul  could  embrace  and  kiss  each  other,  through 
his  blood.  This  was  a  good  day  to  me,  I  hope  I  shall 
never  forget  it. 

At  another  time,  as  I  sat  by  the  fire  in  my  house,  and 
was  musing  in  my  wretchedness,  the-  Lord  made  that 
also  a  precious  word  unto  me  ;  '  Forasmuch  then  as  the 
children  are  made  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,  he  also 
himself  likewise  took  part  of  the  same,  that  through 
death  he  might  destroy  him  that  had  the  power  of  death, 
that  is  the  devil;  and  deliver  them  who  through  fear  of 
death,  were  all  their  life-time  subject  to  bondage.  I 
thought  that  the  glory  of  these  words  was  then  so 
weighty  on  me,  that  I  was  both  once  and  twice  ready  to 
swoon  as  I  sat;  yet  not  with  grief  and  trouble,  but  with 
solid  joy  and  peace. 

At  this  time,  also,  I  sat  under  the  ministry  of  holy  Mr. 
Giiford,  whose  doctrine,  by  God's  grace,  was  much  for 
my  stability.  This  man  made  it  much  his  business  to 
deliver  the  people  of  God  from  all  those  hard  and  unsound 
tests,  that  by  nature  we  are  prone  to.  He  would  bid 
us  take  special  heed  that  we  took  not  up  any  truth  upon 
trust,  as  from  this,  or  that,  or  any  other  man,  or  men; 
but  cry  mightily  to  God,  that  he  would  convince  us  of 
the  realit}'-  thereof,  and  set  us  down  therein  by  his  own 
spirit  in  the  holy  word ;  '  for,'  said  he,  '  if  you  do  other- 
wise, when  temptations  come  strongly  upon  you,  you  not 
6 


54  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

having  received  them  with  evidence  from  heaven,  will 
find  you  want  that  help  and  strength  now  to  resist  that 
once  you  thought  you  had.' 

This  was  as  seasonable  to  my  soul  as  the  former  and 
latter  rain  in  their  season ;  for  I  had  found,  and  that  by 
sad  experience,  the  truth  of  these  his  words ;  for  I  had  felt 
no  man  can  say,  especially  when  tempted  by  the  devil, 
that  'Jesus  Christ  is  Lord,  but  by  the  Holy  Ghost.' 
Wherefore  I  found  my  soul,  through  grace,  very  apt  to 
drink  in  this  doctrine,  and  to  incline  to  pray  to  God,  that 
in  nothing  that  pertained  to  God's  glory,  and  my  own 
eternal  happiness  he  would  suffer  me  to  be  without  the 
confirmation  thereof  from  heaven :  for  now  I  saw  clearly 
there  was  an  exceeding  difierence  betwixt  the  notion  of 
the  flesh  and  blood,  and  the  revelation  of  God  in  heaven  : 
also  a  great  difference  between  that  faith  which  is  feign- 
ed, and  according  to  man's  wisdom,  and  that  which  comes 
by  a  man's  being  born  thereto  of  God.  '  Blessed  art  thou, 
Simon  Barjona :  for  flesh  and  blood  hath  not  revealed 
it  unto  thee,  but  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.' 

But,  oh !  now,  how  was  my  soul  led  from  truth  to 
truth  by  God  !  Even  from  the  birth  and  cradle  of  the 
Son  of  God,  to  his  ascension,  and  second  coming  from 
heaven  to  judge  the  world. 

Truly,  I  then  found,  upon  this  account,  the  great  God 
was  very  good  unto  me ;  for,  to  my  remembrance,  there 
was  not  any  thing  that  I  then  cried  unto  God  to  make 
known  and  reveal  unto  me,  but  he  was  pleased  to  do  it 
for  me.  I  mean,  not  one  part  of  the  gospel  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  but  I  was  orderly  led  into  it.  I  saw  with  great 
clearness  and  distinctness,  the  wonderful  works  of  God, 
in  giving  Jesus  Christ  to  save  us,  from  his  conception 
and  birth,  even  to  his  second  coming  to  judgment :  me- 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  55 

thought  I  was  as  if  I  had  seen  him  born,  as  if  I  had  seen 
him  grow  up  ;  as  if  I  had  seen  him  walk  through  this 
world,  from  the  cradle  to  the  cross ;  to  which  also,  when 
he  came,  I  saw  how  gently  he  gave  himself  to  be  hanged, 
and  nailed  on  it  for  my  sins  and  wicked  doings. 

When  I  have  considered  also  the  truth  of  .his  resurrec- 
tion, and  have  remembered  that  word,  '  Touch  me  not, 
Mar  J,'  &c.  I  have  seen  as  if  he  had  leaped  out  of  the 
grave's  mouth,  for  joy  that  he  was  risen  again,  and  had 
got  the  conquest  over  our  dreadful  foes,  saying,  '  I  ascend 
unto  my  Father,  and  your  Father;  and  to  my  God,  and 
your  God.'  I  have  also  in  the  spirit  seen  him,  on  the 
right  hand  of  God  the  Father  for  me  ;  and  have  seen  the 
manner  of  his  coming  from  heaven  to  judge  the  world 
with  glory,  and  have  been  confirmed  in  these  things  by 
these  Scriptures :  '  And  when  he  had  spoken  these  things, 
while  they  beheld,  he  was  taken  up,  and  a  cloud  received 
him  out  of  their  sight.'  —  'But  he  being  full  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  looked  up  steadfastly  into  heaven,  and  saw  the 
glory  of  God,  and  said.  Behold,  I  see  heaven  opened,  and 
the  Son  of  man  standing  on  the  right  hand  of  God.'  — 
'And  he  commanded  us  to  preach  unto  the  people,  and  to 
testify  that  it  is  he  which  was  ordained  of  God  to  be  the 
judge  of  quick  and  dead.'  — 'But  this  man,  because  he 
continucth  forever,  hath  an  unchangeable  priesthood.'  — 
•  Christ  was  once  offered  to  bear  the  sins  of  many,  and  to 
them  who  look  for  him  shall  he  appear  the  second  time 
without  sin  unto  salvation.'  —  'I  am  he  that  liveth,  and 
was  dead,  and  behold  I  am  alive  forevermore,  Amen:  and 
have  the  keys  of  hell  and  death.'  —  '  For  the  Lord  him- 
self shall  descend  from  heaven  with  a  shout,  with  the 
voice  of  the  archangel  and  the  trump  of  God,  and  the 
dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first.     Then  we  which  are  aUve 


56  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

and  remain  shall  be  caught  up  together  with  the  Lord,  in 
the  air :  and  so  shall  we  be  ever  with  the  Lord.  Where- 
fore comfort  ye  one  another  with  these  words.' 

Once  I  was  troubled  to  know  whether  the  Lord  Jesus 
was  man  as  well  as  God,  and  God  as  well  as  man ;  and 
truly  in  those  days  let  men  say  what  they  would,  unless 
I  had  it  with  evidence  from  heaven  all  was  nothing  to 
me ;  I  counted  myself  not  set  down  in  any  truth  of  God. 
Well,  I  was  much  troubled  about  this  point,  and  could  not 
tell  how  to  be  resolved  ;  at  last  that  came  into  my  mind ; 
'  And  I  beheld,  and  lo,  in  the  midst  of  the  throne,  and  of 
the  four  beasts,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  elders,  stood  a 
Lamb  as  it  had  been  slain.'  Rev.  v.  6.  In  the  midst  of  the 
throne,  thought  I,  there  is  the  Godhead ;  in  the  midst  of 
the  elders,  there  is  his  manhood.  That  other  Scripture 
also  did  help  me  much  in  this, '  To  us  a  Child  is  born,  to 
us  a  Son  is  given,  and  the  government  shall  be  upon  his 
shoulders :  and  his  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful 
Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God,  the  Everlasting  Father,  the 
Prince  of  Peace,'  &c.  Isa.  ix.  6. 

It  would  be  too  long  here  to  stay,  to  tell  you  in  par- 
ticular, how  God  did  set  me  down  in  all  the  things  of 
Christ,  and  how  he  did,  that  he  might  do  so,  lead  me  into 
his  words ;  3^ea  and  how  he  did  open  them  unto  me,  and 
make  them  shine  before  me  and  cause  them  to  dwell  with 
me,  talk  with  me,  and  comfort  me  over  and  over,  both  of 
his  own  being,  and  the  being  of  his  Son,  and  Spirit,  and 
word,  and  gospel. 

Only  this,  as  I  said  before.  Twill  say  unto  you  again, 
that  in  general,  he  was  pleased  to  take  this  course  with 
me-  first  to  suffer  me  to  be  afflicted  with  temptations  con- 
cerning them,  and  then  reveal  them  unto  me;  as  some- 
times I  should  lie  under  great  guilt  for  sin,  even  crushed 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  57 

to  the  ground  therewith  ;  and  then  the  Lord  would  show 
me  the  death  of  Christ,  yea,  so  sprinkle  my  conscience 
with  his  blood,  that  I  should  find,  and  that  before  I  was 
aware,  that  in  that  conscience,  where  but  just  now  did 
reign  and  rage  the  law,  even  there  w^ould  rest  and  abide 
the  peace  and  love  of  God,  through  Christ. 

Now  I  had  an  evidence,  as  I  thought,  of  my  salva- 
tion, from  heaven,  with  many  golden  seals  thereon,  all 
hanging  in  my  sight.  Now  could  I  remember  this  mani- 
festation, and  the  other  discovery  of  grace,  with  comfort ; 
and  would  often  long  and  desire  that  the  last  day  were 
come,  that  I  might  be  forever  inflamed  with  the  sight, 
and  py,  and  communion  with  Him,  whose  head  was 
crowned  with  thorns,  whose  face  was  spit  upon,  and  body 
broken,  and  soul  made  an  offering  for  my  sins :  for  where- 
as before,  I  lay  continually  trembling  at  the  mouth  of 
hell,  now  methought  I  was  got  so  far  therefrom,  that 
when  I  looked  back,  I  could  scarce  discern  it !  And  O! 
thought  I,  that  I  were  fourscore  years  old  now,  that  I 
might  die  quickly,  that  my  S9UI  might  be  gone  to  rest. 

But  before  I  had  got  thus  far  out  of  these  my  tempta- 
tions, I  did  greatly  long  to  see  some  ancient  man's  expe- 
rience, who  had  writ  some  hundreds  of  years  before  I 
was  born  ;  for  those  who  had  writ  in  our  days,  1  thought, 
but  I  desire  them  now  to  pardon  me,  that  they  had  writ 
only  that  which  others  felt;  or  else  had,  through  the 
strength  of  their  wits  and  parts,  studied  to  answer  such 
objections  as  they  perceived  others  were  perplexed  with, 
withoutgoing  down  themselves  into  the  deep.  Well,  after 
many  such  longings  in  my  mind,  the  God^  in  whose 
hands  are  all  our  daj^s,  did  cast  into  my  hand,  one  day,  a 
book  of  Martin  Luther's;  it  was  his  comment  on  the 
Galatians;  it  was  also  so  old,  that  it  was  ready  to  fall 
*6 


58  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

peice  from  peice  if  I  did  but  turn  in  over.  Now  I  was 
pleased  much  that  such  an  old  book  had  fallen  into  my 
hands,  the  which  when  I  had  but  a  little  way  perused,  I 
found  my  condition  in  his  experience,  so  largely  and  pro- 
foundly handled,  as  if  his  book  had  been  written  out  of 
my  heart.  This  made  me  marvel:  for  thus  thought  I  — 
'  This  man  could  not  know  anything  of  the  state  of 
Christians  now,  but  must  needs  write  and  speak  the  ex- 
perience of  former  days. 

Besides,  he  doth  most  gravel3%  also,  in  that  book,  debate 
of  the  rise  of  these  temptations,  namely,  blasphemy,  des- 
paration,  and  the  like,  showing  that  the  law  of  Moses,  as 
well  as  the  devil,  death,  and  hell,  hath  a  very  great  hand 
therein  ;  the  which,  at  first,  was  very  strange  to  me:  but 
considering  and  watching,  I  found  it  so  indeed.  But  of 
particulars  here  I  intend  nothing ;  only  this  methinks  I 
must  let  fall  before  all  men,  I  do  prefer  this  book  of  Mar- 
tin Luther  upon  the  Galatians,  excepting  the  Holy  Bible, 
before  all  the  books  that  ever  I  have  seen,  as  most  fit  for  a 
wounded  conscience. 

And  now  I  found,  as  I  thought,  that  I  loved  Christ 
dearl}^:  oh,  methought  my  soul  cleaved  unto  him,  my  af- 
fections cleaved  unto  him:  but  I  did  quickly  find,  that 
my  great  love  was  but  too  little;  and  that  I,  who  had,  as 
I  thought,  such  burning  love  to  Christ,  could  let  him  go 
again  for  a  very  trifle :  God  can  tell  how  to  abase  us,  and 
can  hide  pride  from  man.  duickly  after  this  my  love 
was  tried  to  purpose. 

For  after  the  Lord  had,  in  this  manner,  thus  graciously 
delivered  me  from  this  great  and  sore  temptation,  and  had 
set  me  down  so  sweetly  in  the  faith  of  his  holy  gospel, 
and  had  given  me  such  strong  consolation  and  blessed  ev- 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  59 

idence,  touching  my  interest  in  his  love,  through  Christ, 
the  tempter  came  upon  me  again." 

Banyan  then  proceeds  to  relate  his  various  temptations, 
and  the  exercises  of  his  mind :  some  of  these  arose  from 
his  mistake  as  to  some  passages  of  Scripture;  but  other 
texts  were  applied  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  so  as  to  guide  his 
mind  aiight;  and,  by  the  painful  process  through  which 
he  was  brought,  he  was  peculiarly  qualified  to  succor  the 
tempted,  and  to  console  the  afilicted.  For  example  he 
says: 

"I  was  tempted  to  sell  and  part  with  this  most  blessed 
Christ,  to  exchange  him  for  the  things  of  this  life,  for  any 
thing.  The  temptation  lay  upon  me  for  the  space  of  a 
year,  and  d:d  follow  me  so  continually,  that  I  was  not  rid 
of  it  one  day  in  the  month :  no,  not  sometimes  one  hour 
in  many  months  together,  unless  when  I  was  asleep.  Yet 
it  was  a  continual  vexation  to  me,  to  think  that  I  should 
have  so  much  as  one  thought  within  me  against  Jesus, 
that  had  done  for  me  as  he  had  done ;  and  yet  that  I  had 
almost  none  others,  but  such  blasphemous  ones.  But  it 
was  neither  my  dislike  of  the  thought,  nor  yet  my  desire 
and  endeavor  to  resist,  that  did  in  the  least  shake  or  abate 
the  continuation  or  force  and  strength  thereof;  for  it  did 
always,  in  almost  whatever  I  thought,  intermix  itself 
therewith,  in  such  sort,  that  I  could  neither  eat  my  food, 
stoop  for  a  pin,  chop  a  stick,  or  cast  mine  ej'e  to  look  on 
this  or  that  but  still  the  temptation  would  come,  '  Sell 
Christ  for  this,  or  sell  Christ  for  that;  sell  him,  sell  him.' 

One  morning,  as  I  did  lie  in  ray  bed,  I  was,  as  at  other 
times,  most  fiercely  assaulted  with  this  temptation,  '  To 
sell  and  part  with  Christ ; '  the  wicked  suggestion  still 
running  in  my  mind, '  Sell  him,  sell  him,'  as  fast  as  man 


60  JOHN     BUNYAN. 

could  speak  ;  against  which  also,  in  my  mind,  as  at  other 
times,  I  answered,  '  No,  no,  not  for  thousands,  thousands, 
thousands,'  at  least  twenty  times  together:  but  at  last, 
after  much  striving,  even  until  I  was  most  out  of  breath,  I 
felt  this  thought  pass  through  my  heart, '  Let  him  go,  if  he 
will ; '  and  I  thought  also  that  1  felt  my  heart  freely  con- 
sent thereto.  Oh  the  diligence  of  Satan !  Oh  the  des- 
perateness  of  man's  heart! 

Now  was  the  battle  won,  and  down  fell  I,  as  a  bird  that 
is  shot  from  the  top  of  a  tree,  into  great  guilt,  and  fearful 
despair.  Thus,  getting  out  of  my  bed,  1  w^ent  into  the 
field;  but  God  knows,  with  as  heavy  a  heart  as  mortal 
man,  I  think,  could  bear:  when,  for  the  space  of  two 
hours,  I  was  like  a  man  bereft  of  life :  and,  as  now,  past 
all  recovery,  and  bound  over  to  eternal  punishment. 

And  withal,  that  Scripture  did  seize  upon  my  soul : 
•  Or  profane  person,  as  Esau,  who,  for  one  morsel  of  meat, 
sold  his  birthright :  for  ye  know,  how  that  afterwards, 
when  he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he  was  reject- 
ed, for  he  found  no  place  of  repentance,  though  he  sought 
it  carefully  w^ith  tears.'  Heb.  xii.  16,  17.  Now  was  I  as 
one  bound,  I  felt  myself  sliut  up  as  unto  the  judgment  to 
come ;  nothing  now,  for  two  years  together,  would  abide 
with  me  but  damnation  and  an  expectation  of  damnation; 
I  say  nothing  now  would  abide  with  me  but  this,  save  some 
few  moments  for  relief,  as  in  the  sequel  you  will  see. 

These  words  were  to  my  soul,  like  fetters  of  brass  to 
my  legs,  in  the  continual  sound  of  which  I  went  for  sev- 
eral months  together.  But  about  ten  or  eleven  o'clock 
one  day,  as  I  was  walking  under  a  hedge,  full  of  sorrow 
and  guilt,  God  knows,  and  bemoaning  myself  for  this 
hard  hap,  that  such  a  thought  should  arise  within  me, 
suddenly  this  sentence  rushed  in  upon  me,  '  The  blood  of 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  61 

Christ  remits  all  guilt.'  At  this  1  made  a  stand  in  my 
spirit :  with  that  this  word  took  hold  upon  me,  '  The 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  his  son,  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin,' 
1  John  i.  7.  Now  I  began  to  conceive  peace  in  my  soul, 
and  methought  1  saw,  as  if  the  tempter  did  steal  away 
from  me,  as  being  ashamed  of  what  he  had  done.  At 
the  same  time  also  I  had  my  sin  and  the  blood  of  Christ 
thus  represented  to  me,  that  my  sin  when  compared  to 
the  blood  of  Christ,  was  no  more  to  it,  than  this  little 
clod  or  stone  before  me,  is  to  this  vast  and  wide  field  that 
here  1  see.  This  gave  me  good  encouragement  for  the 
space  of  two  or  three  hours;  in  which  time,  also,  me- 
thought, I  saw,  by  faith,  the  Son  of  God,  as  suffering  for 
my  sins :  but  because  it  tarried  not,  1  therefore  sunk  in 
my  spirit,  under  exceeding  guilt  again. 

Then,  again,  being  loth  and  unwilling  to  perish,  I  be- 
gan to  compare  my  sm  with  others,  to  see  if  I  could  find 
that  any  of  those  who  were  saved,  had  done  as  1  had 
done.  So  I  considered  David's  adultery  and  murder,  and 
Peter's  sin,  which  he  committed  in  denying  his  Master. 
Oh!  how  did  my  soul  prize  at  this  time  the  preservation 
that  God  did  set  about  his  people  !  Ah,  how  safely  did  I 
see  them  walk,  whom  God  had  hedged  in  !  They  were 
within  his  care,  protection,  and  special  providence. 
Though  they  were  full  as  bad  as  I  by  nature,  yet  because 
•he  loved  them,  he  would  not  suffer  them  to  fall  without 
the  range  of  mercy :  but  as  for  me,  I  was  gone,  I  had 
done  it :  he  would  not  present  me,  nor  keep  me  ;  but  suf- 
fered me,  because  1  was  a  reprobate,  to  fall  as  I  had  done. 
Now  did  those  blessed  places  that  speak  of  God's  keep- 
ing his  people,  shine  like  the  sun  before  me,  though  not 
to  comfort  me,  yet  to  show  me  the  blessed  state  and  herit- 
asre  of  those  whom  the  Lord  had  blessed. 


62  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

Now  I  saw,  that  as  God  had  his  hand  in  all  the  provi- 
dences and  dispensatiins  that  overtook  his  elect;  so  he  had 
his  hand  in  all  the  temptations  that  they  had  to  sin  against 
him ;  not  to  animate  them  to  wickedness,  but  to  choose 
their  temptations  and  troubles  for  them;  and  also  to  leave- 
them  for  a  time,  to  such  things  only  that  might  not  de- 
stroy, but  humble  them;  as  might  not  put  them  beyond, 
but  lay  them  in  the  way  of  the  renewing  his  mercy.    But 
ohl  what  love,  what  care,  what  kindness  and  mercy  did 
I  now  see  mixing  itself  with  the  most  severe  and  dread- 
ful of  all  God's  ways  to  his  people  !     He  would  let  David, 
Hezekiah,   Solomon,  Peter,  and  others  fall,  but  he  would 
not  let  them  fall  into  the  sin  unpardonable,  nor  into  hell 
for  sin.     O!   thought  1,  these  be  men  that  God  hath  lov- 
ed; these  be   the  men  that   God,   though    he    chastiseth 
them,  keeps  them  in  safety  by  him  ;  and  them  whom  he 
makes  to  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty.     But 
all  these  thoughts  added  sorrow,  grief,  and  horror  to  me, 
as  whatever  I  now  thought  on,  it  was  killing  to  me.     If 
I  thought  how  God  kept  his  own,  that  was  killing  to  me ; 
if  I  thought  how  I  was  fallen  myself,  that  was  kiUing  to 
me.     As  all  things  wrought  together  for  the  best,  and  to 
do  good  to  them  that  were  called,  according  to   his  pur- 
pose, so  I  thought  that  all  things  wrought  for  damage, 
and  for  m}^  eternal  overthrow. 

Then,  agam,  1  began  to  compare  my  sin  with  the  sin 
of  Judas,  that,  if  possible,  I  might  find  if  mine  differed 
from  that,  which  in  truth  is  unpardonable :  and  oh ! 
thought  I,  if  it  should  differ  from  it,  though  but  the 
breadth  of  an  hair,  what  a  happy  condition  is  my  soul  in ! 
And,  by  considering,  I  found  that  Judas  did  this  inten- 
tionally, but  mine  was  against  prayer  and  strivings;  be- 
sides, his   was   committed   with   much  deliberation,  but 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  63 

mine  in  a  fearful  hurry,  on  a  sudden  ;  all  this  while  I  was 
tossed  to  and  fro  like  the  locust,  and  driven  from  trouble  to 
sorrow;  hearing  always  the  sound  of  Esau's  fall  in  my 
ears,  and  the  dreadful  consequences  thereof 

I  was  often  now  ashamed  that  I  sliould  be  like  such 
an  ugly  man  as  Judas :  I  thought,  also,  how  loathsome  I 
should  be  unto  all  the  saints  in  the  day  of  judgment :  in- 
somuch that  now  I  could  scarce  see  a  good  man,  that  I 
believed  had  a  good  conscience,  but  1  should  feel  my 
heart  tremble  at  him,  while  I  was  in  his  presence.  Oh! 
now  I  saw  a  glory  in  walking  with  God,  and  what  a 
mercy  it  was  to  have  a  good  conscience  before  him. 

I  was  at  this  time  tempted  to  content  myself  by  receiv- 
ing some  false  opinions  ;  as,  that  there  should  be  no  such 
thing  as  a  day  of  judgment ;  that  we  should  not  rise  again  ; 
and  that  sin  was  no  such  grievous  thing :  the  tempter 
suggesting  thus :  '  For  if  these  things  should  indeed  be 
true,  yet  to  believe  otherwise  would  yield  you  ease  for  the 
present.  If  j^ou  must  perish,  never  torment  yourself  so 
much  beforehand :  drive  the  thoughts  of  damning  out  of 
your  mind  by  possessing  your  mind  with  some  such  con- 
clusions that  atheists  and  unbelievers  use  to  help  them- 
selves withal.' 

But,  oh !  when  such  thoughts  have  passed  through  my 
heart,  how,  as  it  were,  within  a  step,  have  death  and 
judgment  been  in  my  view  !  Methought  the  Judge  stood 
at  the  door ;  I  was  as  if  it  had  come  already ;  so  that  such 
things  could  have  no  entertainment.  But,  methinks  I 
see  by  this,  that  Satan  will  use  any  means  to  keep  the 
soul  from  Christ ;  he  loveth  not  an  awakened  frame  of 
spirit ;  security,  blindness,  darkness  and  error,  is  the  very 
kingdom  and  habitation  of  the  wicked  one. 

I  found  it  hard  work  now  to  pray  to  God,  because  des- 


64  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

pair  was  swallowing  me  up.  I  ibought  I  was,  as  with  a 
tempest,  driven  away  from  God  ;  for  always,  when  1  cried 
to  God  for  mercy,  this  would  come  in, '  It  is  too  late,  I  am 
lost,  God  hath  let  me  fall :  not  to  my  correction,  but  to 
my  condemnation  :  my  sin  is  unpardonable  ;  I  know  con- 
cerning Esau,  how,  that  after  he  had  sold  his  birth-right, 
he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  but  was  rejected,' 

That  saying  would  sometimes  come  into  my  mind, 
'  He  hath  received  gifts  for  the  rebellious.'  The  rebell- 
ious !  thought  I :  why,  surely,  ti.ey  are  such  as  were  un- 
der snbji^ction  to  their  prince:  even  those  who,  after  they 
have  once  sworn  subjection  to  his  govern njent,  have  taken 
up  arms  against  him;  and  this,  thought  I,  is  my  very 
condition,  I  once  loved  him,  feared  him,  served  him  ;  but 
now  1  am  a  rebel :  I  have  sold  him,  I  have  said,  let  him 
go  if  he  will ;  but  yet  he  has  gifts  for  rebels;  and  then 
wh^'  not  for  me  ? 

This  sometimes  I  thought  on,  and  would  labor  to  take 
hold  thereof,  that  some,  though  small  refreshment,  might 
have  been  conceived  by  me;  but  in  this  also  I  missed  of 
m}^  desire.  I  was  driven  with  force  beyond  it  ;  I  was 
like  a  man  going  to  execution,  even  by  that  place  where 
he  would  fain  creep  in  and  hide  himself,  but  may  not. 

After  I  had  considered  the  sins  of  the  saints  in  particu- 
lar, and  found  mine  went  be^^ond  them,  then  1  began  to 
think  with  m3^self:  set  the  case,  I  should  put  all  theirs  to- 
gether, and  mine  alone  against  them,  might  I  not  then 
find  encouragement  ?  for  if  mine,  though  bigger  than 
any  one,  yet  should  be  but  equal  to  a'l,  then  there  is  hope; 
for  that  blood  that  hath  virtue  enough  in  it  to  wash  away 
all  theirs,  hath  virtue  enough  in  it  to  wash  away  mine, 
though  this  one  be  as  big  if  not  bi<jger  thnn  all  theirs. 

The  tempter  strongly  suggested  to  me,  that  I  ought  not 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  65 

to  pray  to  God,  for  prayer  was  not  for  any  in  my  case ; 
neither  could  it  do  me  good,  because  I  had  rejected  the 
Mediator,  by  whom  all  prayer  came  with  acceptance  to 
God  the  Father,  and  without  whom  no  prayer  could  come 
into  his  presence ;  wherefore  now  to  pray,  seeing  God  has 
cast  you  off,  is  the  next  way  to  anger  and  offend  him 
more  than  ever  you  did  before. 

Yet  my  case  being  desperate,  I  thought  with  myself,  I 
can  but  die;  and  if  it  must  be  so,  it  shall  once  be  said, 
•  That  such  an  one  died  at  the  foot  of  Christ  in  prayer.' 
This  I  did,  but  with  great  difficulty,  God  doth  know ; 
and  that  because,  together  with  this,  still  that  saying 
about  Esau  would  be  set  at  my  heart,  even  like  a  flaming 
sword,  to  keep  the  way  of  the  tree  of  life,  lest  I  should 
take  thereof  and  live.     Oh  !  who  knows  how  hard  athino- 

o 

I  found  it  to  come  to  God  in  praj^er! 

I  did  also  desire  the  prayer  of  the  people  of  God  for  me, 
but  I  feared  that  God  would  give  them  no  heart  to  do  it; 
yea,  I  trembled  in  my  soul  to  think,  that  some  or  other  of 
them  would  shortly  tell  me,  that  God  hath  said  those 
words  to  them,  that  he  once  did  say  to  the  prophet  con- 
cerning the  children  of  Israel,  '  Fray  not  for  this  people, 
for  I  have  rejected  them.'  So,  '  Pray  not  for  him,  for  I 
have  rejected  him.'  Yea,  I  thought  he  had  whispered 
this  to  some  of  them  already,  only  they  durst  not  tell  me 
so;  neither  durst  I  ask  them  of  it,  for  fear  if  it  should  be 
so,  it  would  make  me  quite  beside  mj^self :  '  Man  knows 
the  beginning  of  sin,'  says  Spira,  '  but  who  bounds  the  is- 
sues thereof?' 

About  this  time   I  took  an  opportunity  to  break  my 

mind  to  an  ancient  Christian,  and  told  him  all  my  case. 

I  told  him,  also,  that  I  was  afraid   that  I  had  sinned  the 

sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  he  told  me  he  thought  so 

7 


66  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

too.  Here,  therefore,  I  had  but  cold  comfort ;  but  talking 
a  little  more  with  him,  I  found  him,  though  a  good  man, 
a  stranger  to  much  combat  with  the  devil.  Therefore,  I 
went  to  God  again,  as  well  as  I  could,  for  mercy  still. 

Then  did  that  Scripture  seize  upon  my  soul, '  He  is  of  one 
mind  and  who  can  turn  him  ! '  Oh  !  I  saw  it  was  as  easy 
to  persaude  him  to  make  a  new  world,  a  new  covenant,  or  a 
new  Bible,  besides  that  we  have  already,  as  to  pray  for  such 
a  thing.  This  was  to  persuade  him  that  what  he  had  done 
already,  was  mere  folly,  and  persuade  him  to  alter,  yea, 
to  disannul  the  whole  way  of  salvation.  And  then  would 
that  saying  rend  my  soul  asunder,  '  Neither  is  there  sal- 
vation in  any  other,  for  there  is  none  other  name  under 
heaven,  given  among  men  wlierebj'-  we  must  be  saved.' 

Now  the  most  free,  and  full,  and  gracious  words  of  the 
gospel  were  the  greatest  torment  tome;  ea,  nothing  so 
afflicted  me,  as  the  thought  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  remem- 
brance of  a  S"avior  ;  because  I  had  cast  him  off,  brought 
forth  the  villany  of  my  sin,  and  my  loss  by  it  to  mind  ; 
nothing  did  twinge  my  conscience  like  this ;  every  thing 
that  I  thought  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  of  his  grace,  love,  good- 
ness, kindness,  gentleness,  meekness,  death,  blood,  prom- 
ises, and  blessed  exhortations,  comforts  and  consolations, 
it  went  to  my  soul  like  a  sword ;  for  still  unto  the&e  my 
considerations  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  these  thoughts  would 
make  place  for  themselves  in  my  heart :  '  A}',  this  is  the 
Lord  Jesus,  the  loving  Savior,  the  Son  of  God,  whom 
you  have  parted  with,  whom  you  have  slighted,  despised, 
and  abused.  This  is  the  only  Savior,  the  only  Re- 
deemer, the  only  one  that  could  so  love  sinners  as  to  wash 
them  from  their  sins  in  his  own  most  precious  blood  ;  but 
you  have  no  part  nor  lot  in  this  Jesus  ;  you  have  put  him 
from  you.     Now,   therefore,  you  are  severed  from  him ; 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  67 

you  have  severed  yourself  from  him.  Behold,  then,  his 
goodness,  but  yourself  to  be  no  partaker  of  it.'  Oh ! 
thought  I,  what  have  I  lost !  what  have  I  parted  with  ! 
what  has  disinherited  my  poor  soul !  Oh  !  it  is  sad  to  be 
destroyed  by  the  grace  and  mercy  of  God  !  to  have  the 
Lamb,  the  Savior  turn  lion  and  destroj^er!  I  could  not 
think  of  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb,  in  that  great  day  of  his 
wrath  when  no  rebels  to  his  authority  will  be  able  to 
stand.  I  also  trembled,  as  1  have  said,  at  the  sight  of  the 
saints  of  God,  especially  at  those  that  greatly  loved  him, 
and  that  made  it  their  business  to  walk  continually  with 
him  in  this  world,  for  they  did,  both  in  their  words,  their 
carriages,  and  all  their  expressions  of  tenderness,  and  fear 
to  sin  against  their  precious  Savior,  condemn,  and  lay 
guilt  upon,  and  also  add  continual  afQiction  and  shame 
unto  my  soul.  The  dread  of  them  was  upon  me,  and  1 
trembled  at  God's  Samuel's  :  '  And  Samuel  came  to  Beth- 
lehem, and  the  elders  of  the  town  trembled  at  his  coming, 
and  said,  comest  thou  peaceably  V 

Thus  I  was  alwaj's  sinking,  whatever  I  did  think  or 
do.  So  one  day  I  walked  to  a  neighboring  town,  and  sat 
down  upon  a  settle  in  the  street,  and  fell  into  a  very  deep 
pause  about  the  most  fearful  state  my  sin  had  brought  me 
to;  and,  after  long  musing,  I  lifted  up  my  head,  but  me- 
thought  I  saw  as  if  the  sun  that  shineth  in  the  heavens 
did  grudge  to  give  light ;  and  as  if  the  very  stones  in  the 
street,  and  tiles  upon  the  houses,  did  bend  themselves 
against  me.  Methought  that  they  all  combined  together 
to  banish  me  out  of  the  world.  I  was  abhorred  of  them, 
and  unfit  to  dwell  among  them,  or  to  be  partaker  of  their 
benefits,  because  I  had  sinned  against  the  Savior,  Oh 
how  happy  now  was  every  creature,  to  what  I  was  !  for 
they  stood  fast  and  kept  their  station,  but  I  was  gone  and 
lost. 


68  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

Then  breaking  out  in  the  bitterness  of  my  soul,  I  said 
to  my  soul  with  a  grievous  sigh,  '  How  can  God  comfort 
such  a  wretch  1 '  I  had  no  sooner  said  it,  but  this  return- 
ed upon  me,  as  an  echo  doth  answer  a  voice,  '  This  sin  is 
not  unto  death.'  At  which  I  was  as  if  I  had  been  raised 
out  of  the  grave,  and  cried  out  again,  '  Lord,  how  couldst 
thou  find  out  such  a  word  as  this!'  for  I  was  filled  with 
admiration  at  the  fitness  and  the  unexpectedness  of  the 
sentence;  the  fitness  of  the  word,  the  rightness  of  the 
timing  of  it;  the  powder,  and  sweetness,  and  light,  and 
glory  that  came  with  it,  also,  were  marvellous  to  me  to 
find.  I  was  now,  for  the  time,  out  of  doubt  as  to  that 
about  which  I  was  so  much  in  doubt  before :  my  fears  be- 
fore were  that  ray  sins  were  not  pardonable,  and  so  that 
I  had  no  right  to  pray,  to  repent,  &c.  or  that  if  I  did  it 
would  be  of  no  advantage  or  profit  to  me.  But  now, 
thought  I,  if  this  sin  is  not  unto  death,  then  it  is  pardon- 
able; therefore,  from  this  I  have  encouragement  to  come 
to  God  by  Christ  for  mercy,  to  consider  the  promise  of  for- 
giveness, as  that  which  stands  with  open  arms  to  receive 
me  as  well  as  others.  This,  therefore,  was  a  great  ease- 
ment to  my  mind,  to  wit,  that  my  sin  was  pardonable, 
that  it  was  not  the  sin  unto  death.  '  If  any  man  see  his 
brother  in  a  sin  which  is  not  unto  death,  he  shall  ask, 
and  he  shall  give  him  life  for  them  that  sin  not  unto  death. 
There  is  a  sin  unto  death.  1  do  not  say  that  ye  shall 
pray  for  it.  All  unrighteousness  is  sin  ;  and  there  is  a  sin 
not  unto  death.'  None  but  those  that  know  what  my 
trouble,  by  their  own  experience,  was,  can  tell  what 
relief  came  to  my  soul  by  this  consideration.  It  was  a 
release  to  me  from  my  former  bonds,  and  a  shelter  from 
my  former  storm?.  I  seemed  now  to  stand  upon  the  same 
ground  with  other  sinners,  and  to  have  as  good  right  to 
the  word  and  prayer  as  any  of  them. 


JOHN     BUNYAN,  69 

The  next  day  at  evening,  being  under  many  fears,  I 
went  to  seek  the  Lord,  and  as  I  prayed,  I  cried,  and  my 
soul  cried  to  him  in  these  words,  with  strong  cries,  *  O 
Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  show  me  that  thou  hast  loved  me 
with  everlasting  love.'  I  had  no  sooner  said  it,  but  with 
sweetness,  this  returned  upon  me  as  an  echo,  or  sounding 
again,  '  I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love.'  Now 
I  went  to  bed  in  quiet ;  also  when  1  awaked  the  next 
morning  it  was  fresh  upon  my  soul,  and  I  believed  it. 

As  I  was  musing  and  in  my  studies,  considering  how 
to  love  the  Lord,  and  to  express  my  love  to  him,  that  say- 
ing come  in  upon  me,  '  If  thou,  Lord,  shouldst  mark  iniqui- 
ties, O  Lord,  who  should  stand?  But  there  is  forgiveness 
with  thee  that  thou  may  est  be  feared.'  These  were  good 
words  to  me,  especially  the  latter  part  thereof;  to  wit, 
that  there  is  forgiveness  with  the  Lord,  that  he  might  be 
feared,  that  is,  as  I  then  understood  it,  that  he  might  be 
beloved,  and  had  in  reverence ;  for  it  was  thus  made  out 
to  me,  That  the  great  God  did  set  so  high  an  esteem  upon 
the  love  of  his  poor  creatures,  that  rather  than  he  would 
go  without  their  love,  he  would  pardon  their  transgres- 
sions. 

That  saying,  *  And  he  spake  a  parable  to  them,  to  this 
end,  that  men  ought  always  to  pray  and  not  to  faint,' 
with  others,  did  encourage  me  to  prayer.  Then  the 
tempter  laid  at  me  very  sore,  suggesting,  '  That  neither 
the  mercy  of  God,  nor  yet  the  blood  of  Christ,  did  at  all 
concern  me,  nor  could  they  help  me  for  my  sins;  there- 
fore it  was  in  vain  to  pray.'  Yet  thought  I,  '  I  will  pray.' 
*  But,'  said  the  tempter, '  your  sin  is  unpardonable.'  *  Well,' 
said  I,  '  I  will  pray.'  '  It  is  to  no  boot,'  said  he.  '  Yet,' 
said  I,  •  I  will  pray.'     So  I  went  to  prayer  to  God  ;  and 

while  I  was  at  prayer,  I  uttered  words  to  this  effect: 
#7 


70  JOHN   bunyan. 

'  Lord,  Satan  tells  me,  that  neither  thy  mercy  nor  Christ's 
blood,  is  sufficient  to  save  my  soul :  Lord,  shall  1  honor 
thee  most,  by  believing  that  thou  wilt,  and  canst?  or  him, 
by  believing  that  thou  neither  wilt  nor  canst?  Lord,  I 
would  fain  honor  thee,  by  believing  thou  wilt  and  canst.' 
And  as  I  was  thus  before  the  Lord,  that  Scripture  fas- 
tened on  my  heart,  *  O  man,  great  is  thy  faith,'  Matt.  xv. 
28 :  yet  I  was  not  able  to  believe  this,  that  this  was  a 
praj-er  of  faith,  till  almost  six  months  after ;  for  I  could 
not  think  that  I  had  faith,  or  that  there  should  be  a  word 
for  me,  to  act  faith  ;  therefore  I  should  still  be,  as  in  the 
jaws  of  desperation,  and  went  mourning  up  and  down  in 
a  sad  condition. 

One  day,  when  I  was  in  a  meeting  of  God's  people,  full 
of  sadness  and  terror,  for  my  fears  again  were  strong  upon 
me,  and  as  I  was  now  thinking  my  soul  was  never  the 
better,  but  my  case  most  sad  and  fearful,  these  words  did 
with  great  power  suddenly  break  in  upon  me,  '  My  grace 
is  sufficient  for  thee,  my  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,  my 
grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,'  three  times  together.  And 
oh!  methought  that  every  word  was  a  mighty  word  unto 
me  ;  as  '  my'  and  '  grace'  and  '  sufficient'  and  '  for  thee;' 
they  w^ere  then,  and  sometimes  are  still,  far  bigger  than 
others  be. 

That  Scripture  most  sweetly  visited  my  soul;  'And 
him  that  cometh  to  me  1  will  in  no  v/ise  cast  out.'  Oh, 
the  comfort  that  I  had  from  this  word,  '  in  no  wise  ! '  As 
who  should  say,  '  By  no  means,  for  nothing  whatever  he 
hath  done.'  But  Satan  would  greatly  labor  to  pull  this 
promise  froa^  me,  telling  me  that  Christ  did  not  mean  me 
and  such  as  I,  but  sinners  of  a  lower  rank  that  had  not 
done  as  I  had  done.'  But  1  would  answer  him  again, 
Satan,  here  is  in  these  words  no  such  exception ;  but  him 


JOHN     BUNYAN.  71 

that  comes,  — him  —  any  him :  '  Him  that  cometh  to  me 
I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.'  And  this  I  well  remember 
still,  that  of  all  the  sleights  that  Satan  used  to  take  this 
Scripture  from  me,  yet  he  never  did  so  much  as  put  this 
question,  'But  do  you  come  aright?'  And  I  have 
thought  that  the  reason  was,  because  he  thought  I  knew 
full  well  what  coming  aright  was,  for  I  saw  that  to  come 
aright,  was  to  come  as  I  was,  a  vile  and  ungodly  sinner, 
and  to  cast  myself  at  the  feet  of  mercy,  condemning  my- 
self for  sin.  If  ever  Satan  and  I  did  strive  for  any  word  of 
God  in  all  my  life,  it  was  for  this  good  word  of  Christ ;  he 
at  one  end  and  I  at  the  other.  Oh,  what  work  we  made  ! 
It  was  ior  this  in  John,  I  say,  that  we  did  so  tug  and 
strive,  he  pulled  and  1  pulled,  but  God  be  praised,  I  over- 
came him  ;  I  got  sweetness  from  it. 

One,  day  as  I  was  passing  into  the  field,  and  that  too 
with  some  dashes  of  my  conscience,  fearing  lest  all  was 
not  right  yet,  suddenly  this  sentence  fell  upon  my  soul, 
'  Thy  righteousness  is  in  heaven  ; '  and  methought  withal, 
I  saw  with  the  eyes  of  my  soul,  Jesus  Christ  at  God's 
right  hand  ;  there,  I  say,  was  my  righteousness ;  so  that 
wherever  I  was,  or  whatever  I  was  doing,  God  could  not 
say  of  me,  'He  wants  my  righteousness;'  for  that  was 
just  before  him.  I  also  saw,  moreover,  that  it  was  not 
my  good  frame  of  heart  that  made  my  righteousness  bet- 
ter, nor  yet  my  bad  frame  that  made  my  righteousness 
worse ;  for  my  righteousness  was  Jesus  Christ  himself, 
'  The  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever.' 

Now  did  my  chains  fall  off  rny  legs  indeed ;  I  was 
loosed  from  my  afflictions,  and  irons ;  my  temptations 
also  fled  away;  so  that  from  that  time  those  dreadful 
Scriptures  of  God  left  off  to  trouble  me ;  now  went  I  also 
home  rejoicing,  for  the  grace  and  love  of  God  ;  so  when 


72  JOHN    BUNYAN. 

I  came  home,  I  looked  to  see  if  I  could  find  that  sen- 
tence; '  Thy  righteousness  is  in  heaven,'  but  could  not 
find  such  a  saying;  wherefore  my  heart  began  to  sink 
again,  only  that  was  brought  to  my  remembrance,  '  He  is 
made  unto  us  of  God,  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctifica- 
tion,  and  redemption.'  1  Cor.  i.  33.  By  this  word  I  saw 
the  other  sentence  true. 

For  by  this  Scripture  I  saw  that  the  man  Christ  Jesus, 
as  he  is  distinct  from  us,  as  touching  his  bodily  presence, 
so  he  is  our  righteousness  and  sanctification  before  God  ; 
here,  therefore,  I  lived,  for  sometime,  very  sweetly  at  peace 
with  God  through  Christ  ;  oh  !  methought,  Christ  ! 
Christ !  there  was  nothing  but  Christ  before  my  eyes. 
I  was  not  now  only  for  looking  upon  this  and  the  other 
benefits  of  Christ  apart,  as  of  his  blood,  burial,  or  resurrec- 
tion, but  considering  him  as  a  whole;  as  he  in  whom  all 
these,  and  all  other  his  virtues,  relations,  offices,  and  ope- 
rations met  together,  and  that  he  sat  on  the  right  hand  of 
God  in  heaven. 

It  was  glorious  to  me  to  see  his  exaltation,  and  the 
worth  and  prevalency  of  all  his  benefits,  and  that  because 
now  I  could  look  from  mj^self  to  him,  and  would  reckon 
that  all  those  graces  of  God  that  now  were  green  on  me, 
were  yet  but  like  those  wretched  groats  and  fourpence- 
halfpennies  that  rich  men  carry  in  their  purses,  when 
their  gold  is  in  their  trunk  at  home.  Oh  !  I  saw  my  gold 
was  in  my  trunk  at  home !  In  Christ  my  Lord  and  Sa- 
vior. Now  Christ  was  all ;  all  my  righteousness,  all 
my  sanctification,  and  all  my  redemption. 

Further,  the  Lord  did  also  lead  me  into  the  mystery  of 
union  with  the  Son  of  God ;  that  I  was  joined  to  him, 
•  that  I  was  flesh  of  his  flesh  and  bone  of  his  bone.'  And 
now  was  that  word  of  St.  Paul  sweet  to  me.     By  this 


JOHN     BUNYAN.  73 

also  was  my  faith  in  him,  as  my  righteousness,  the  more 
confirmed  in  me ;  for  if  he  and  I  were  one,  then  his  right- 
eousness was  mine,  his  merits  mine,  his  victory  also 
mine.  Now  could  I  see  myself  in  heaven  and  earth  at 
once:  in  heaven  by  my  Christ,  by  my  head,  by  right- 
eouusness  and  life,  though  on  earth  by  my  body  or 
person. 

Now  I  saw  Christ  Jesus  was  looked  upon  of  God,  and 
should  also  be  looked  upon  by  us,  as  that  common  or  pub- 
lic person,  in  whom  all  the  whole  body  of  his  elect  are  al- 
ways to  be  considered  and  reckoned ;  that  we  fulfilled 
the  law  by  him,  died  by  him,  rose  from  the  dead  by  him, 
got  the  victory  over  sin,  death,  the  devil,  and  hell  by  him  ; 
when  he  died  we  died,  and  so  of  his  resurrection.  '  Thy 
dead  men  shall  live,  together  with  my  dead  body  shall 
they  arise,'  saith  he.  And  again,  '  After  two  days  he 
will  revive  us,  and  the  third  day  we  shall  live  in  his  sight.' 
Which  is  now  fulfilled  by  the  sitting  down  of  the  Son  of 
man  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  in  the  heavens,  ac- 
cording to  that  of  the  Ephesians,  '  He  hath  raised  us  up 
together  and  made  us  sit  together  in  heavenly  places  in 
Christ  Jesus.' 

Ah!  these  blessed  considerations  and  Scriptures,  with 
many  others  of  like  nature,  were  in  those  days  made  to 
spangle  in  mine  eyes,  so  that  1  have  cause  to  say,  *  Praise 
ye  the  Lord  God  in  his  sanctuary ;  praise  him  in  the  fir- 
mament of  his  power ;  praise  him  for  his  mighty  acts ; 
praise  him  according  to  his  excellent  greatness.' 

Having  thus  in  a  few  words  given  you  a  taste  of  the 
sorrow  and  aflfiiction  that  my  soul  went  under,  by  the 
guilt  and  terror  that  these  my  wicked  thoughts  did  lay 
me  under;  and  having  given  you  also  a  touch  of  my  de- 
liverance therefrom,   and  the  sweet  and  blessed  comfort 


74  JOHN     EUNYAN. 

that  I  met  with  afterwards,  which  comfort  dwelt  about  a 
twelvemonth  with  my  heart,  to  my  unspeakable  admira- 
tion ;  I  will  now,  God  willing,  before  I  proceed  any  far- 
ther, give  you  in  a  word  or  two,  what,  as  I  conceive,  was 
the  cause  of  this  temptation  ;  and  also  after  that,  what 
advantage,  at  the  last,  it  became  unto  my  soul. 

For  the  causes,  I  conceive  they  were  principally  two ; 
of  which  two  also  I  was  deeply  convinced  all  the  time 
this  trouble  lay  upon  me.  The  first  was,  for  that  I  did 
not,  when  j  was  delivered  from  the  temptation  that  went 
before,  still  pray  to  God  to  keep  me  from  the  temptations 
that  were  to  come  :  for  though,  as  I  can  say  in  truth,  my 
soul  was  much  in  prayer  before  this  trial  seized  me,  yet 
then  [  pra3^ed  only,  or  at  the  most,  principally,  for  the  re- 
moval of  present  troubles,  and  for  fresh  discoveries  of  his 
love  in  Christ,  which  I  saw  afterwards  was  not  enough 
to  do;  I  also  should  have  prayed  that  the  great  God 
would  keep  me  from  the  evil  that  was  to  come. 

Of  this  I  was  made  deeply  sensible  by  the  prayer  of 
holy  David,  v/ho  when  he  was  under  present  mercy,  yet 
prayed  that  God  would  hold  him  back  from  sin  and 
temptation  to  come;  '  For  then'  saith  he,  'shall  I  be  up- 
right, and  then  I  shall  be  innocent  from  the  great  trans- 
gression.' 3y  this  very  word  was  I  galled  and  con- 
demned quite  through  this  long  temptation. 

That  was  also  another  word  that  did  much  condemn 
me  for  my  folly,  in  the  neglect  of  this  duty:  'Let  us 
therefore  come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of  grace,  that  we 
may  obtain  mercy  and  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need.' 
Heb.  iv.  16.  This  I  had  not  done,  and  therefore  was  thus 
suffered  to  sin  and  fall,  according  to  what  is  written, 
'  Pray  that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation  : '  and  truly  this 
very  thing  is  to  this  day  of  such  weight  and  awe  upon 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  75 

me,  that  I  dare  not,  when  I  come  before  the  Lord,  go  off 
my  knees,  until  I  entreat  him  for  help  and  mercy  against 
the  temptations  that  are  to  come;  and  I  do  beseech  thee, 
reader,  that  thou  learn  to  beware  of  my  negligence,  by 
the  afflictions  that  for  this  thing,  1  did  for  days,  and 
months  and  years,  with  sorrow  undergo. 

And  now,  to  show  you  something  of  the  advantages 
that  [  also  have  gained  by  this  temptation:  and  first,  by 
this  I  was  made  continually  to  possess  in  my  soul  a  very 
wonderful  sense  both  of  the  blessing  and  glory  of  God, 
and  of  his  beloved  Son,  In  the  temptation  that  went  be- 
fore, my  soul  was  perplexed  with  unbelief,  blasphemy  and 
hardness  of  heart,  questions  about  the  being  of  God, 
Christ,  and  the  truth  of  the  word,  and  certainty  of  the 
world  to  come:  I  say  then  I  was  greatly  assaulted  and 
tormented  with  atheism.  But  now  the  case  was  other- 
wise; now  was  God  and  Christ  continually  before  my 
face,  though  not  in  a  way  of  comfort,  but  in  a  way  of 
exceeding  dread  and  terror.  The  glory  of  the  holiness 
of  God,  did  at  this  time  break  me  to  pieces  ;  and  the  ten- 
derness and  compassion  of  Christ  did  break  me  as  on  a 
wheel ;  for  I  could  not  consider  him  but  as  a  lost  and  re- 
jected Christ,  the  remembrance  of  which  was  the  contin- 
ual breaking  of  my  bones. 

The  Scriptures  also  were  wonderful  things  unto  me;  I 
saw  that  the  truth  and  verity  of  them  were  the  keys  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  ;  those  that  the  Scriptures  favor, 
they  must  inherit  bliss :  but  those  that  they  oppose  and 
condemn,  must  perish  forevermore;  oh!  this  word,  'For 
the  Scriptures  cannot  be  broken,'  would  rend  the  caul  of 
my  heart ;  and  so  would  that  other,  'Whose  sins  3^e  remit, 
they  are  remitted ;  but  whose  sins  ye  retain,  they  are  re- 
tained.'    Now  I  saw  the  apostles  to  be  the  elders  of  the 


76  JOHN     BUNYAN. 

city  of  refuge.'  Joshua  xx.  4.  Those  that  they  were  to 
receive  in,  were  received  to  life;  but  those  that  they  shut 
out,  were  to  be  slain  by  the  avenger  of  blood. 

By  this  temptation  I  was  made  to  see  more  into  the 
nature  of  the  promises  than  ever  I  had  before :  for  I,  ly- 
ing now  trembling  under  the  mighty  hand  of  God,  con- 
tinually torn  and  rent  by  the  thundering  of  his  justice, 
this  made  me  with  careful  heart,  and  watchful  eye,  with 
great  fearfulness  to  turn  over  every  leaf,  and  with  much 
diligence,  mixed  with  trembling,  to  consider  every  sen- 
tence, together  with  its  natural  force  and  latitude. 

By  this  temptation  also  I  was  greatly  holden  off  from 
my  former  foolish  practice  of  putting  by  the  word  of  prom- 
ise when  it  came  into  my  mind ;  for  now,  though  1  could 
not  seek  tha  comfort  and  sweetness  from  the  premise  as  I 
had  done  at  other  times,  yet  like  to  a  man  sinking,  I 
would  catch  at  all  I  saw.  Formerly  I  thought  I  might 
not  meddle  with  the  promise,  unless  I  felt  its  comfort;  but 
now  it  was  no  time  thus  to  do :  the  avenger  of  blood  too 
hard  by  did  pursue  me. 

Now  therefore  was  I  glad  to  catch  at  that  word,  which 
yet  I  feared  I  had  no  ground  or  right  to  own  :  and  even  to 
leap  into  the  bosom  of  that  promise  that  yei  I  feared  did 
shut  his  heart  against  me.  Now  also  1  would  labor  to 
take  the  word,  as  God  hath  laid  it  down,  without  restrain- 
ing the  natural  force  of  one  syllable  thereof:  oh,  what 
did  I  see  in  that  blessed  sixth  chapter  of  St.  John  :  'i^nd 
him  that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.'  Now 
I  began  to  consider  with  myself  that  God  had  a  bigger 
mouth  to  speak  with  than  I  had  a  heart  to  conceive  with: 
I  thought  also  with  myself,  that  he  spake  not  his  words  in 
haste,  or  in  an  unadvised  heat,  but  with  infinite  wisdom 
and  judgment,  and  in  very  truth  and  faithfulness. 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  77' 

I  would  in  these  days,  even  in  my  greatest  agonies  often 
flounder  towards  the  promise,  as  the  horses  do  towards 
sound  ground,  that  yet  stick  in  the  mire,  concluding, 
though  as  one  bereft  of  his  wits  through  fear,  on  this  will 
I  rest  and  stay,  and  leave  the  fulfilling  of  it  to  the  God 
of  heaven  that  made  it.  Oh  !  many  a  pull  hath  my  heart 
had  with  Satan,  for  that  blessed  sixth  chapter  of  John :  I 
did  not  now,  as  at  other  times,  look  principally  for  com- 
fort, though,  oh  how  welcome  would  it  have  been  unto 
me !  But  now  a  word,  a  word  to  lean  my  weary  soul 
upon,  that  it  might  not  sink  forever !  it  was  that  1  hunted 
for. 

Yea,  often  when  I  have  been  making  to  the  promise,  I 
have  seen  as  if  the  Lord  would  refuse  my  soul  forever ;  I 
was  often  as  if  I  had  run  upon  the  pikes,  and  as  if  the 
Lord  had  thrust  at  me,  to  keep  me  from  him,  as  with  a 
flaming  sword.  Then  would  I  think  of  Esther,  who 
went  to  petition  to  the  king,  contrary  to  the  lav/,  '  So 
will  I  go  in  unto  the  king,  which  is  not  according  to  law, 
and  if  I  perish,  I  perish.'  Esther  iv.  16.  I  thought  also 
of  Benhadad's  servants,  who  went  with  ropes  on  their 
heads  to  their  enemies  for  mercy.  The  woman  of  Ca- 
naan, also,  that  would  not  be  daunted,  though  called  dog 
by  Christ ;  and  the  man  that  w^ent  to  borrow  bread  at 
midnight,  were  also  great  encouragements  to  me. 

I  never  saw  those  heights  and  depths  in  grace,  and 
love  and  mercy  as  I  saw  after  this  temptation  ;  great  sins 
to  draw  out  great  grace;  and  where  guilt  is  most  terrible 
and  fierce,  there  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  v/hen  show- 
ed to  the  soul,  appears  most  high  and  mighty,  \\hen 
Job  had  passed  through  his  captivity,  '  he  had  twice  as 
much  as  he  had  before.'  Blessed  be  God  for  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord.  Many  other  things  I  might  here  make  obser- 
8 


78  JOHN     BUNYAN. 

vation  of,  but  I  would  here  be  brief,  and  therefore  shall  at 
this  time  omit  them;  and  do  pray  God  that  my  harms 
may  make  others  fear  to  offend,  lest  they  also  be  made  to 
bear  the  iron  yoke  as  I  did." 

We  may  here  remark  upon  these  records  of  Bunyan's 
experience,  that  God  works  in  different  ways  in  bringing 
souls  home  to  himself.  The  conversion  of  John  Eunyan, 
or  any  other  eminent  saint,  must  never  be  regarded  as  the 
model  to  which  all  must,  in  this  particular,  be  conformed. 
Some  are  drawn  by  the  still  voice  of  mercy,  and  others 
are  driven  by  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  from  sin  to  holiness. 
But  no  terrors,  no  texts  powerfully  impressed  on  the 
mind,  nor  any  extraordinary  intimation  of  the  spirit,  can 
be  substituted  for  a  change  of  the  heart ;  nor  should  they 
be  regarded  as  any  proof  of  such  a  change,  if  sin  be  not 
hated,  and  forsaken,  and  Christ  and  holiness  be  not  su- 
premely loved.  Genuine  repentance  for  sin,  constant 
faith  in  Christ,  and  obedience  to  his  laws,  are  the  best  evi- 
dences of  being  converted  to  God. 

Bunyan's  mind  was  at  length  happily  freed  from  its 
embarrassments,  and  he  enjoyed  much  pleasure  in  the 
ways  of  God.  He  speaks  of  possessing  in  his  soul  de- 
lightful views  of  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  excellencies 
of  Christ.  God  reconciled  in  Christ  Jesus  was  continu- 
ally before  his  face.  The  Scriptures  appeared  to  him  a 
very  wonderful  book;  on  their  truth  he  placed  entire 
confidence,  and  by  their  application  to  his  mind  he  was 
instructed  in  the  way  of  life.  Still  there  was  great  igno- 
nance,  frequently  discovered  of  the  true  meaning  of  the 
sacred  volume;  and  hence  there  were  many  passages 
grossly  misapplied  to  himself:  as  comparing  his  case  to 
Esau's,  when  he  was  seeking  pardon  from  God  \\ho  had 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  79 

promised  to  forgive;  but  Esau  only  sought  to  alter  his 
father's  purpose  respecting  his  birthright,  which  was 
irrevocably  fixed.  This  it  was,  also,  which  led  him  to 
make  the  doctrines  of  election  an  objection  to  his  apply- 
ing to  Jesus  Christ  for  salvation :  as  the  gospel  nowhere 
directs  sinners  to  scrutinize  the  secret  purposes  of  God, 
but  exhorts  them  to  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
promises  that  v^hosoever  believes  in  him  shall  be  saved 
with  an  everlasting  salvation. 

Most  gladly  would  we  enrich  the  present  compilation, 
with  further  extracts  from  the  life  of  this  extraordinary 
man  ;  but  our  limits  forbid.  Having  seen  him  just  ready 
to  perish  in  the  '  city  of  destruction,'  and  witnessed  his 
flight  from  it,  amid  the  scoffs  and  jeers  of  his  wicked 
companions  —  having  followed  him  through  the  'slough 
of  despond,'  and  over  the  wide  and  desolate  plain,  up  to 
the  •  wicket  gate,'  and  thence  to  the  cross  where  his  bur- 
den fell  off  from  his  back,  we  can  only  glance  at  his  sub- 
sequent progress,  as  he  goes  on  through  perils  and 
deliverances,  towards  the  '  delectable  mountains,  and  the 
celestial  city.' 

In  his  twenty-fifth  year,  Bunyan  became  a  member  of 
the  Baptist  church  in  Bedford,  and  three  years  after,  in 
1656,  began  to  preach  the  everlasting  gospel.  He  entered 
into  the  work  with  all  his  heart  and  soul;  and  as  might 
have  been  expected,  his  labors  were  crowned  with  signal 
success.  Having  struggled  so  long  in  the  horrible  pit 
and  the  miry  clay,  himself,  he  knew  better  than  most 
ministers,  how  to  address  those  who  were  in  similar  cir- 
cumstances. Having  been  so  often  driven  almost  to  despair 
by  various  temptations,  he  was  eminently  qualified,  in 
humble  imitation  of  his  divine  Master,  to  '  succor  them 
that  were  tempted.' 


80  '       JOHN    BUNYAiV. 

But  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  great  adversary, 
who  had  so  terribly  buffeted  him  both  before  and  after  his 
conversion,  would  now  permit  him  to  proceed  without 
further  molestation.  The  fires  of  persecution  were  about 
to  be  rekindled,  and  it  would  have  been  next  to  miracu- 
lous, if  he  had  not  been  scorched  by  them.  Soon  after 
the  restoration  of  Charles  II,  the  flame  broke  out,  and 
Bunyan  was  sent  to  prison,  because  he  could  not  con- 
scientiously conform  to  the  arbitrary  dictation  of  the 
ecclesiastical  courts.  When  they  commanded  him  to 
conform,  or  keep  silence,  all  his  answers  were  in  the  very 
spirit  of  the  apostles,  '  Whether  we  ought  to  hearken  unto 
you,  more  than  unto  God,  judge  ye.' 

It  was  about  the  first  of  Nov.  1G60,  that  he  was  co 
mitted  to  Bedford  jail,  there  to  await  his  trial  at  t 
quarter  session  in  January.  When  the  trial  came  on,  he 
was  treated  with  great  indignity  and  contempt  by  some 
of  the  court,  which  he  endured  with  the  spirit  of  a 
martyr. 

He  was  finally  condemned  for  '  upholding  of  unlawful 
assemblies,  conventicles,'  &c.  and  remained  in  prison  for 
about  twelve  years.  But  it  was  impossible  to  fetter  the 
bold  and  inventive  energies  of  his  mind,  or  to  quench  his 
holy  zeal.  Though  his  body  was  in  confinement,  '  the 
word  of  God  was  not  bound.'  God  sent  him  to  prison 
as  he  did  Joseph  into  Egypt,  to  do  more  for  the  church 
than  he  would  have  accomplished  in  any  other  way. 
Till  this  event,  he  was  so  fully  employed  in  the  support 
of  his  family,  and  in  constant  preaching,  that  it  was  im- 
possible he  could  ever  have  written  anything  without  a 
change  in  his  circumstances.  But  by  these  means,  he 
was  effectually  called  away  from  mending  pots  and  ket- 
tles, as  the  apostles   were  from   mending  their  nets ;  and 


JOHN    BUNYAN.  81 

however  painful  the  dispensation  was  to  himself,  his 
family  and  his  friends,  it  afforded  him  probably  the  best 
opportunity  he  could  have  had,  both  by  his  example  and 
writings,  to  strengthen  the  faith  and  animate  the  hopes 
of  believers  to  the  end  of  time.  It  was  during  his  im- 
prisonment, that  he  conceived  and  wrote  that  wonderful 
allegory,  the  *  Pilgrim's  Progress,'  besides  the  'Holy  War,' 
and  many  other  things  in  his  own  inimitable  style  and 
manner.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add,  that  the  first 
mentioned  of  these  works,  has  been  translated  into  almost 
all  the  modern  European  languages,  and  next  to  the 
Bible,  is  one  of  the  most  popular  books  in  the  world. 

Soon  after  Bunyan's  enlargement,  in  1672,  his  friends 
built  him  a  meeting  house  in  Bedford,  where  he  con- 
tinued to  preach,  till  his  death,  which  took  place  on  the 
12th  of  August,  1688.  His  last  sickness  he  bore,  with 
much  constancy  and  patience,  and  expressed  himself  as 
if  he  desired  nothing  more  than  '  to  be  dissolved  and  be 
with  Christ,  which  is  far  better.'  Fmding  his  vital 
strength  decay,  having  also  settled  his  mind  and  his 
affairs,  as  well  as  the  shortness  of  the  time  and  the  vio- 
lence of  the  disease  would  permit,  with  a  constant  and 
Christian  patience,  he  resigned  his  soul  into  the  hands  of 
his  most  merciful  Redeemer,  following  his  Pilgrim  from 
the  city  of  Destruction,  to  the  new  Jerusalem. 

The  following  epitaph  marks  the  place  where  his  body 
rests  in  hope  of  a  glorious  resurrection. 

The  Pilgrim's  Progress  now  is  finished, 
And  death  has  laid  him  in  his  earthly  bed. 


CHAPTER    II. 
REV.    THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

TRUE    AND    FALSE    RELIGION. 

Thomas  Halliburton  was  born  at  Dublin,  Dec.  25, 
1674.  The  following  narrative  of  his  Cljristian  experi- 
ence is  taken  from  an  account  which  he  himself  wrote  of 
his  life. 

"  It  cannot  be  expected  that  at  so  great  a  distance  I 
should  remember  the  particulars  of  the  first  three  or  four 
years  of  my  life,  yet  I  may  on  the  justest  grounds  pre- 
sume that  they  were  filled  up  with  those  sins  that  cleave 
to  children  in  their  infancy  ;  many  of  which  are  not  only 
evil  as  they  flow  from  a  poisoned  root,  for  an  evil  tree 
will  bring  forth  corrupt  fruit ;  but  do  also  bear  the  im- 
press of,  and  an  evident  congruity  to  their  cormpt  source, 
and  taste  strong  of  that  root  of  bitterness  whereupon  they 
grow. 

With  the  first  appearances  of  reason,  the  corruption  of 
our  spirit  discovers  itself.  How  early  do  our  actions  dis- 
cover pride,  passion,  revenge,  dissimulation  and  sensuality 
to  be  inlaid,  as  it  were,  in  our  very  constitution  !  Any 
ordinary  observer  may  discover  instances  innumerable  of 
this  sort  very  early  in  children.  With  these  and  the  like 
evils,  no  doubt  were  the  first  years  of  my  life,  whereof  I 


84  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

remember  little,  filled  up.  '  Folly  is  bound  in  the  heart 
of  a  child,'  and  we  go  astray  as  soon  as  we  are  born,  speak- 
ing lies. 

In  the  first  period  of  my  life,  I  had  advantages  above 
most  persons.  My  parents  were  eminently  religious.  I 
was  trained  up  under  their  eyes  and  inspection,  for  the 
most  part.  I  continually  heard  the  sound  of  divine  truths : 
the  beauty  of  the  practice  of  religion  was  continually 
represented  to  my  eyes  in  their  walk.  I  was  by  their 
care  kept  from  ill  company  that  might  infect  n.e.  By 
these  means  I  was  restrained  from  those  grosser  outbreak- 
ings  that  children  often  run  into,  and  habituated  to  a 
form  of  religion,  and  put  upon  the  performing  of  such 
outward  duties  of  religion  as  my  years  were  capable  of. 
Hence  it  appears  that  the  sin  I  now  am  fully  convinced 
that  I  wallowed  in,  during  this  tract  of  time,  is  not  to  be 
imputed,  either  as  to  inclination  or  actings,  merely  to 
contracted  habits,  or  occasional  temptations,  but  it  really 
was  the  genuine  fruit  and  result  of  that  lamentable  bias 
which  man,  since  the  fall,  is  born  with.  Surely  the 
spring  must  be  within,  when,  notwithstanding  all  the 
care  taken  to  keep  me  from  them,  I  impetuously  went  on 
in  sinful  courses.  The  holy  God  hedged  up  my  way  by 
precepts,  example,  discipline ;  but  I  broke  through  all. 
Surely  the  spring  must  be  within ;  and  surely  it  must  be 
very  strong  that  was  able  to  bear  down  such  powerful 
mounds  as  were  set  in  its  way  by  the  providence  of  God, 
and  run  with  so  full  a  stream  notwithstanding  all  out- 
ward occasions  of  its  increase  were  cut  off,  as  much  as 
might  be.  Herein  1  have  full  evidence  of  a  he;irt  natu- 
rally estranged  from,  naj'  opposite  to  the  Lord  ;  and  be- 
sides this  deeply  aggravates  my  guilt. 

To  confirm  this,  when  I  now  survey  the  decalogue,  and 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  85 

review  this  portion  of  my  time,  notwitlistanding  the  great 
distance,  I  do  distinctly  remember,  and,  were  it  to  edifi- 
cation, could  relate  particular  instances  of  the  opposition 
of  my  heart  unto  each  of  its  precepts.  Whatever  influ- 
ence education  may  have  in  moulding  what  is  seen,  yet 
surely,  '  the  imaginations  of  man's  heart  are  evil  from  his 
youth.' 

True  it  is,  through  the  influence  of  the  means  before 
mentioned,  I  did  all  this  while  abominate  the  more  gross 
breaches  of  all  commands,  and  dislike  open  sin ;  but 
meanwhile  my  heart  was  set  upon  the  less  discernible 
violations  of  the  same  holy  law.  My  dislike  was  not 
against  sin,  but  the  consequences  of  it,  and  the  main 
thing  I  regarded  was  the  wor-ld's  opinion  of  it.  Fear  of 
punishment,  pride  that  fears  to  be  ill  thought  of,  or  at 
best,  a  natural  conscience  enlightened  by  education,  were 
the  only  springs  of  any  performance  of  duty,  or  abstinence 
from  sin.  Prone  I  was  all  this  while  to  sin,  even  of  all 
sorts  which  that  age  is  carried  into,  and  I  indulged  in  it 
in  secret,  when  I  could  say,  that  '  no  eye  shall  see  me.' 

Even  those  things  which  in  my  way  seemed  good,  and 
promising,  such  as  detestation  of  gross  sins,  performance 
of  duties,  &c.  were  either  purely  the  effects  of  a  forcible 
custom,  a  bribe  to  a  natural  conscience  to  hold  its  peace, 
a  sacrifice  to  self,  a  slavish  performance  of  what  I  took 
no  delight  in,  to  avoid  the  whip,  or  sometimes  a  charm  to 
keep  me  from  danger,  which  I  thought  would  befall  me, 
and  dreaded  much  if  I  neglected  prayer.  Thus  my  best 
things  dreadfully  increased  my  guilt,  being  like  the 
apples  of  Sodom,  fair  to  look  at,  promising  while  untried, 
but  within  full  of  ashes  and  noisome  matter. 

Thus  the  spring  of  corruption  confined  in,  on  the  one 
side,  I  mean  as  to  open  profanity,  by  the  mounds  of  edu- 


86  THOMAS    HALLIBURtON. 

cation,  broke  out  on  the  other  side,  in  a  form  of  rcHgion 
without,  nay,  plainly  opposite  to  the  power  of  it,  \vhich  is 
no  less  hateful  to  the  holy  God.  The  prayer  of  the 
wicked  is  sin  ;  his  sacrifice  is  an  abomination.  Sin,  in 
the  one  case,  has  a  little  varnish  that  hides  its  deformity 
somewhat,  from  the  eyes  of  men  ;  in  the  other  it  is  seen 
in  its  native  hue  and  colors.  In  the  one  case,  it  runs  un- 
der ground;  in  the  other  it  openly  follows  its  course. 

But  yet,  after  all,  I  must  confess  that  such  was  the 
strength  of  corruption  that  it  drew  me  to  several  of  the 
more  plain  and  gross  sins  inciderit  to  this  age ;  which 
though  some  account  pardonable  follies  in  children,  yet 
the  Lord  makes  another  reckoning  of  them,  and  sundry 
of  them  have  been  made  bitter  to  me ;  such  as  lying  to 
avoid  punishment,  Subbath-breaking,  revenge,  hatred  of 
my  reprovers,  and  others  of  a  like  nature.  Some  partic- 
ular sins  committed  in  childhood  which  I  had  quite  for- 
gotten, as  being  attended  with  no  notable  circumstances 
that  could  make  them  stick  rather  than  other  things,  and 
being  of  an  older  date  than  anj^hing  else  I  can  remember, 
were  brought  fresh  to  my  remembrance  when  the  Lord 
began  closely  to  convince  of  sin  ;  and  being  presented  in 
their  native  colors,  in  the  light  of  the  Lord,  and  in  all  the 
circumstances  of  time,  place,  partners  in  sin,  &c.  and 
were  made  the  matter  of  my  deep  humiliation,  loathing, 
and  self- abhorrence,  as  not  only  full  of  wickedness  in 
themselves,  but  pregnant  evidences  of  the  deepest  natural 
depravity ;  which  made  me  see  to  whom  it  was  owing 
that  I  went  not  to  all  the  heights  of  wickedness  and  the 
grossest  abominations  that  ever  any  were  carried  to,  and 
which  a  haughty  heart,  if  not  restrained  seasonably, 
partly  by  secret  power,  and  partly  by  outward  means, 
would  inevitably  have  carried  me  to.    '  Folly  is  bound  in 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  87 

the  heart  of  a  child,'  deeply  rooted  and  fastened  there. 
And  no  thanks  to  the  best  that  they  are  kept  from  the 
worst  things.  What  a  monster  had  I  been,  if  left  to  my- 
self, and  not  seasonably  restrained  by  outward  means,  and 
inward  power !  Blessed  be  the  invisible  hand  and  the 
outward  instruments  of  these  restraints  that  kept  me  back 
from  sinning. 

The  first  rise  of  my  concern  about  religion. 

In  the  month  of  Ma}^  1685,  my  mother  being,  by  the 
heat  of  persecution,  obliged  to  retire  to  Holland,  I  went 
along  with  her.  While  we  were  at  sea,  being  in  some 
real  or  apprehended  danger,  my  conscience,  which  had 
for  all  the  by-gone  ten  years,  so  far  as  I  can  now  rem.em- 
ber,  been  fast  asleep,  began  to  awaken  ;  I  was  challenged 
for  sin,  terrified  with  the  apprehensions  of  bell  and  death, 
and  the  wrath  of  God,  which  I  had  no  thought  about  be- 
fore I  was  brought  to  this  distress.  '  Thej^  have  turned 
their  back  unto  me  and  not  their  face ;  but  in  the  time  of 
their  trouble  they  shall  sa.y.  Arise  and  save  us.' 

All  this  concern  was  nothing  more  than  a  sad  mixture 
of  natural  fear,  and  a  selfish  desire  of  preservation  from 
the  danger  that  was  supposed  imminent,  at  least,  by  me. 
Peace,  acceptance,  communion  with  God  came  not  much 
in  my  thoughts.  I  was  afraid  and  unwilling' to  die:  I 
would  gladly  have  been  out  of  danger  of  hell.  This  was 
all  my  exercise  at  this  time.  It  was  not  sin,  but  death 
and  its  consequences  I  was  concerned  to  be  rid  of. 

As  this  exercise  was  wholly  selfish  without  any  con- 
cern for  the  Lord's  glory,  so  it  led  me  to  selfish  courses 
for  relief  I  promised  that  were  I  at  land  I  would  live 
and  be  better  than  formerly :   I  engaged  to  keep  all  God's 


88  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

commands.  My  mother  told  me  I  was  in  a  mistake,  and 
should  not  hold  there.  But  there  was  no  persuad  ng  one, 
so  ignorant  of  his  own  heart  as  I  at  this  time  was,  of 
this.  I  multiplied  resolutions,  and  doubted  not  myself  as 
to  the  performance. 

No  sooner  was  T  come  to  land  and  fixed  at  Rotterdam, 
but  I  verified  what  had  been  foretold:  I  forgot  all  my 
promises  and  resolutions.  The  unrenewed  and  corrupt 
heart  being  free  from  the  force  put  upon  it  by  the  natural 
conscience,  under  appearance  of  hazard,  took  its  old 
course.  I  returned  to  former  evils  and  grew  worse.  Cor- 
ruption that  had  been  confined  in  for  a  little,  having  easi- 
ly forced  down  all  these  mounds  raised  to  hold  it  in,  ran 
with  the  greater  violence.  It  is  true,  through  the  mercy 
of  God,  I  was  still  restained  from  open  scandalous  sins,  to- 
ward which  the  reverence  for  my  godly  and  prudent 
mother,  and  the  principles  of  education  did  contribute  not 
a  little :  but  as  to  secret  evils  of  all  sorts,  I  had  no  aver- 
sion to  them  ;  nay  to  many  of  them  I  was  strongly  in- 
clined, and  in  many  instances  followed  my  own  inclina- 
tions. I  was  a  ready  and  easy  prey  to  every  temptation, 
notwithstanding  all  my  engagements. 

At  this  time  1  wanted  not  frequent  convictions,  occa- 
sioned sometimes  by  the  preaching  of  the  word,  and  at 
other  seasons,  by  the  light  of  my  education  which  still 
hung  about  me,  and  was  a  check  upon  me,  but  all  this 
was  only  like  the  starts  of  a  sleeping  man,  occasioned  by 
some  sudden  noise :  up  he  gets,  but  presently  he  is  down 
and  faster  asleep  than  before.  I  found  means  to  get  rid 
of  these  convictions,  I  would,  when  they  were  uneasy, 
promise  them  a  hearing  afterwards.  At  other  seasons  I 
looked  at  the  tendency  of  them ;  that  they  aimed  at  en- 
gaging me  to  be  holy :  and  then  I  pored  upon  the  diffi- 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  89 

culties  of  that  course,  still  I  not  only  got  the  edge  of  my 
convictions  blunted,  but  frighted  myself  from  a  compli- 
ance. When  convictions  were  lighter,  I  got  rid  of  them 
by  withdrawing  from  what  had  been  the  means  of  pro- 
ducing them.  Sometimes  I  promised  them  fair,  and  so 
put  them  off  at  that  time,  but  minded  it  not  afterward. 
Sometimes  they  issued  in  fruitless,  inactive  and  slothful 
wishes.  At  other  times  when  they  were  troublesome,  I  turned 
my  eye  to  something  I  thought  good,  in  my  way  ;  though 
the  Lord  knows,  little  was  there  that  had  so  much  as  any 
tolerable  appearance  of  good.  Sometimes  I  endeavored 
to  diminish  my  sin  as  much  as  I  could  ;  '  In  all  my  la- 
bors they  shall  find  no  iniquity  in  me,  that  were  sin.' 
When  these  shifts  failed,  and  they  were  still  uneasy,  I 
then  betook  myself  to  diversions,  and  they  choked  the 
word  and  convictions  from  it. 

About  this  time  I  met  with  some  things  that  crossed 
me.  Herein  I  turned  thoughtful  what  way  to  rid  myself 
of  these  difficulties.  I  seemed  more  than  ordinarily  con- 
cerned, and  my  spirit  was  much  troubled  :  yet  really  this 
strait  led  me  not  to  God  :  but  my  thoughts  were  spent  in 
resentment  against  the  real  or  supposed  authors  of  my  un- 
easiness, in  proud,  selfish  and  vain  contrivances  for  mine 
own  ease  and  relief. 

About  the  month  of  December,  1686,  upon  the  earnest 
desire  of  my  father's  sister,  who  was  married  to  John 
Glass,  provost  of  Perth,  I  was  sent  back  from  Holland  to 
my  native  land,  to  live  with  her.  While  I  staid  in  my 
uncle  Glass's  family,  I  saw  nothing  of  religion,  though 
my  aunt  was  a  woman  very  moral.  Here  1  was  much 
indulged.  I  got  liberty  and  I  took  it.  1  saw  little  of  the 
worship  of  God,  and  I  easily  complied,  and  turned  remiss 
too.  What  further  advances  I  made  toward  an  open  re- 
jection of  the  very  form  of  religion  in  this  place,  I  do  not 
9 


90.  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

now  at  this  distance  distinctly  remember:  but  no  doubt 
they  were  great.  This  I  do  remember  that  I  found  my 
aversion  to  those  sins,  which  through  the  influence  of  ed- 
ucation, I  abominated  before,  sensibly  weakened.  Yea,  I 
found  some  secret  hankering  after  some  of  them,  a  delight 
in  those  who  were  guilty,  and  a  sort  of  approbation  of 
them  in  my  heart.  Yet  still  I  was  in  a  great  measure  re- 
strained from  an  avowed  practical  cornphance  by  the  aw- 
ful impressions  which  early  instruction  had  left  on  my 
mind,  and  which  were  not  as  yet  wholly  worn  off,  though  - 
they  were  far  decayed,  considering  the  shortness  of  my 
stay,  v/hence  I  may  easily  discern  what  had  become  of 
them,  if  I  had  stayed  longer  there.  Further  I  mind 
that,  at  this  time,  I  had  a  great  aversion  to  learning, 
which  was  the  only  good  thing  that  in  this  place  was 
urged  upon  me.  I  looked  on  it  as  a  burden  and  drudgery 
to  which  the  basest  employment  were  to  be  preferred  ;  and 
hence  I  no  way  set  my  heart  to  it,  but  trifled  my  time 
away  ;  and  many  a  sinful  shift  did  betake  myself  to,  that 
I  might  get  the  time  shufiled  over. 

Thus  I  spent  the  winter.  In  the  spring  of  1687,  my 
mother,  fearing  I  might  be  ensnared  with  the  company  I 
was  now  amongst,  came  home  for  me,  as  minding  the 
wise  man's  observation  ;  The  rod  and  reproof  give  wis- 
dom, but  a  child  left  to  himself,  bringeth  his  mother  to 
shame.  But  so  great  was  my  wickedness,  that  in  spite 
of  natural  aflfection,  I  was  grieved  at  her  return,  and  when 
first  I  heard  her  voice,  it  damped  me :  1  cared  not  to  see 
the.  Nothing  I  disliked  more  than  a  godh%  affectionate 
mother's  converse.  I  feared  to  be  questioned  as  to  the  past. 
If  eared  she  would  carry  me  away  back  to  Holland,  whereby 
I  should  beput  under  uneasy  restraints  from  my  sinful  liberty. 

In  the  spring,  or  towards  summer,  my  mother  carried 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  91 

me  with  her,  much  agaiust  my  will,  and  put  me  to  school 
there  at  Erasmus'  school.  I  stayed  but  a  short  while 
there ;  but  by  the  advantageous  method  of  teaching 
adopted  there,  I  began  to  delight  in  learning,  and  quickly 
turned  proud  of  my  success,  but  otherwise,  lived  as  I  had 
done  before,  still  worse  and  worse  under  all  the  means 
God  made  use  of  to  bring  me  near  and  keep  me  close  to 
himself. 

In  the  month  of  Februury,  1637,  king  James  sent  forth 
his  proclamations  for  indulgence,  whereon,  most  of  those 
who  had  fled,  returned  home,  and  my  mother  amongst 
others,  towards  August  or  September  that  year.  It  had 
been  for  my  advantage,  probably  for  my  education,  to 
have  stayed  in  Holland,  which  made  me  unwilling  to  re- 
turn. In  our  return  we  were  in  imminent  danger  of  ship- 
wreck, but  by  the  mercy  of  God,  escaped.  The  danger 
was  sudden,  and  suddenly  over,  and  so  left  little  or  no 
impression  on  me.  When  we  came  home,  we  went  to 
Perth,  and  abode  there  till  harvest,  1690,  or  1691, 1  cannot 
be  positive  which. 

Presently  upon  our  settlement  in  this  place,  I  was  en- 
tered at  school,  and  made  some  better  proficiency  than 
before.  But  as  to  religion,  I  continued  as  unconcerned 
as  ever,  as  intent  upon  sin,  as  averse  to  duty  as  formerly 
However  I  acted  while  under  my  mother's  eye,  when  I 
was  among  my  comrades,  I  took  my  liberty,  and  went 
with  them  into  all  the  follies  and  extravagances  they 
went  into,  but  with  this  aggravation  above  most  of  them, 
that  what  I  did,  I  knew  to  be  a  fault,  very  often,  whereas 
they,  at  least  many  of  them,  did  not.  Yea,  not  only  went 
I  along  with  them,  but  was  foremost  and  enticed  others 
into  folly.  Yet  still  through  the  mercy  of  God,  I  was 
kept  froni  openly  scandalous  evils,  save  one  that  I  mind; 


92  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

with  some  other  bojs  I  was  seized  in  a  garden  taking 
some  fruit;  whereof  I  was  much  ashamed,  and  never  at- 
tempted the  like  again,  not  from  any  real  dislike  of  the 
sin,  but  from  fear  of  discovery. 

About  this  time  the  Lord,  by  the  means  I  lived  under, 
the   preaching  of  the  word,    catechizing  in  public  and 

vate,  enlightened  my  mind  further  in  the  knowledge 
of  the  law  and  gospel.  My  capacity  growing  with  my 
years  and  knowledge  of  what  was  sin,  and  what  was 
duty,  and  what  the  fearful  consequences  of  sin  were,  and 
the  advantage  of  duly  increasing,  sin  was  left  open  and 
naked  without  the  excuse  of  ignorance ;  and  conscience 
had  a  further  advantage,  being  armed  with  more  knowl- 
edge and  better  informed  ;  hereon  its  checks,  when  now, 
by  the  Lord's  providence,  it  was  in  some  measure  awaken- 
ed, were  more  frequent  and  sharp,  and  not  so  easily  to  be 
evaded. 

Some  touches  of  sickness  riveted  on  me  the  impressions 
of  mortality  and  frailty,  and  the  tendency  of  each  of  a 
numerous  train  of  diseases  by  which  we  are  daily  exposed 
to  death.  Hereon  I  was  brought  into  and  kept  under 
continual  '  bondage  through  fear  of  death.' 

But  that  which  above  all  affected  me  most  deeply,  and 
gave  an  edge  to  conviction,  was  the  continual  fears  we 
were  in,  of  being  suddenly  destroyed  by  the  Papists.  This 
kept  death  in  its  most  terrible  shape  ever  in  mine  eyes  and 
thoughts. 

Herein  I  was  cast  into  most  grievous  disquietude.  '  I 
took  counsel  in  my  soul  having  sorrow  in  my  heart  daily.' 
I  was  in  a  dreadful  strait  betwixt  two.  On  the  one  hand, 
my  convictions  of  sin  w^ere  sharp,  and  fears  of  a  present 
death  and  judgment  quickened  them.  This  made  me 
attend  more  to  the  word ;  the  more  I  attended  to  it,  they 


♦THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  93 

increased  the  more,  and  I  was  daily  persuaded  more  and 
more  that  there  was  no  way  to  be  rid  of  them,  but  by 
turning  religious.  On  the  other  hand  if  I  should  engage 
in  earnest  with  religion,  then  1  saw  the  hazard  of  suffer- 
ing for  it,  and  wist  not  but  I  might  be  called  immediately 
to  die  for  it,  and  this  I  could  not  think  of  doing.  Betwixt 
the  two  I  was  dreadfully  tossed  in  my  own  mind:  some 
nights  sleep  went  from  mine  eyes,  and  I  was  full  of 
trouble,  1  set  imagination  at  work  and  did  sometimes 
strangely  impress  myself  with  the  fancy  of  an  Irish  cut- 
throat holding  a  dagger  to  my  breast  and  offering  me 
these  terms ;  '  Q,uit  your  religion,  turn  Papist  and  you 
shall  live ;  hold  it  and  you  are  dead.'  The  imagination 
was  sometimes  so  strong  that  I  have  almost  fainted  with 
it,  and  still  I  was  dreadfully  unresolved  what  to  do; 
sometimes  I  would  let  him  give  the  fatal  stroke,  but  hereon 
my  spirits  shrunk  and  my  heart  failed  at  the  apprehension 
of  death ;  at  other  times  I  resolved  to  quit  my  religion, 
but  with  resolution  to  take  it  up  again  when  the  danger 
was  over,  but  here  I  could  get  no  rest.  What,  thought  I, 
if  the  treacherous  enemy  destroy  me  after  I  have  done  it, 
and  so  I  lose  both  life  and  religion  ?  And  what  if  I  die 
before  the  danger  is  over,  and  so  lime  be  not  allowed  me 
to  repent? 

This  sort  of  exercise  frequently  recurred,  and  I  con- 
tinued this  way  at  times,  even  till  after  the  battle  of  Gil- 
lecrankie,  which  was  fought  July  27,  1689.  It  had  some 
interruptions,  and  then  I  was  remiss  as  before ;  but  for 
near  a  year,  few  weeks,  and  frequently  few  days  or  nights, 
passed  over  me,  without  some  such  exercise;  but  the  fears 
of  the  Papist  being  quickly  over,  my  remaining  difficulty 
was  only  with  my  convictions.  Now  as  to  these,  I  en- 
deavored to  reheve  myself.  1.  By  promises  of  abstaining 
*9 


94  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON* 

from  those  sins,  which  more  directly  troubled  me.  '  And 
Pharaoh  called  for  Moses  and  Aaron,  and  said,  entreat 
the  Lord  for  me,  and  I  will  let  the  people  go.'  2.  I  took 
sanctuary  in  resolutions  of  inquiring  into  the  Lord's 
mind,  and  complying.  But  when  I  consulted  any  prac' 
tical  book,  or  the  ministry  of  the  word,  and  found  them 
not  give  such  directions  as  agreed  with  my  unrenewed 
heart,  I  was  grieved  and  perplexed.  3.  I  thought  to  find 
peace  in  a  more  careful  attendance  upon  duties.  Thus 
being  ignorant  of  God's  righteousness,  and  going  about 
to  establish  mine  own  righteousness,  I  submitted  not  my- 
self unto  the  righteousness  of  God,  nor  showed  I  any 
regard  to  Christ,  who  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteous- 
ness to  every  one  that  belie veth.' 

Though    my  foolish   heart  ran  to  these  courses,  yet 
really  they  afforded  no  solid  repose  ;  for  1.  The  very  first 
sin  against  light,  and  the  first  omission  of  duty,  (which 
very  speedily  ensued  upon   the  intermission  of  the  force 
that  present  conviction  put  upon  me,)  shook  all.     And  I 
was  confounded  at  the  thoughts  of  appearing  before  God 
in  a  rigbleousness  so  plainly  ragged,  that  where  it  had 
one  piece,  it  wanted  two.     2.    Though  these  ways  gave 
some  ease  when  trials,  were  at  a  distance,  yet  when  the 
thoughts  of  death  came  near,   I  found  not  quiet  here. 
This  was  not  gold  tried  in  the  fire,  nor  would  it  abide  so 
much  as  a  near  hand  view  of  a  trial;  but  at  the  very  ap- 
pearance of  a  storm,  this  sandy  foundation  shook.  When- 
ever convictions  were  awakened  as  to  new  sins,   challen- 
ges for  old  ones  recurred,  which  showed  that  the  cure  was 
not  perfect.     '  Behold  all  ye  that  kindle  a  fire,  that  com- 
pass 3'ourselves  about  with  sparks;  that  walk  in  the  light 
of  your   fire   and  in  the  sparks  that  ye  have  kindled, 
this  shall  ye  have  of    my   hand,  ye  shall  lie   down  in 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  95 

The  effects  of  this  exercise  that  abode  and  increased 
afterwards    were  principally  these   three:     1.   Hereby   I 
was  brought  into  a  doubt  about  the  truths  of  religion,  the 
being   of  a   God   and   things   eternal.     This  hesitation 
was   not  from  any  arguments  that    offered   themselves 
against  these  truths,  or  from  any  suspicion  of  ministers, 
parents  or  others  from  whom  I  had    received  them ;  but 
merely  from  this,  that  whenever  in  danger  or  straits,  I 
would  build  on  them,  a  suspicion  secretly  haunted  me, 
What  if  these  things  are  not  1     Whence  I  was  brought 
to  think  that  I  had  not  certainty  and  evidence  about  them 
answerable  to  the  weight  that  was  to  be  laid  on  them. 
1  thought  death  and  the  trouble  attending  it  were  certain 
and  sensible  things,  but  1  could  not  get  my  mind  satisfied 
and  fully  assured  upon  the  truths  of  religion.    Still,  when 
under  apprehensions  of  death  I  would  have  taken  rest 
upon  the  truths  of  religion,  the  persuasion  failed  me,  and 
my  mind  began  to  waver,  though  I  could  give  no  reason 
of  this.     '  The  way  of  the  wicked  is  as  darkness,  they 
know  not  at  what  they  stumble.'  2.  I  was  hereby  persua- 
ded, and  this  persuasion  ever  after  increased  in  strength, 
that  I  could  never  have  peace  till  I  came  to  another  sort 
of  evidence  and  certainty  about  the  truths  of  religion, 
than  1  was  yet  acquainted  withal.     Death  I  saw  inevita- 
ble, it  might  be  very  sudden ;  I  was  capable  of  being  im- 
pressed with  the  forethought  of  it  and  could  not  banish 
them.     Therefore,   concluded   I,  unless   I  obtain  such  a 
conviction  of  religion  and  such  an  interest  in  it  as  will 
make  me  not  only  look  at  death  without  fear,  but  go 
through  it  with  comfort,  '  Better  for  me  I  had  never  been;' 
but  how  or  when  this  was  to  be  obtained  I  was  utterly 
uncertain.     Here   I  lay  in  great  perplexitj'',   under  the 
melancholy  impressions  that  I   had    hitherto  spent  my 


96  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

money  for  '  that  which  is  not  bread,  and  my  labor  for 
that  which  satisfieth  not.'  This  perplexity  was  some- 
what eased,  while  one  day,  reading  how  Mr.  Robert 
Bruce  was  shaken  about  the  being  of  a  God,  and  how  at 
length  he  came  to  the  fullest  satisfaction,  hereby  a  hope 
secretly  sprung  up,  that  one  time  or  other  the  like  might 
befall  me,  and  that  the  Lord  might  satisfy  me  in  this. 
Here  was  the  dawning  of  a  light,  that  though  long  it  did 
not  fully  clear  up,  yet  was  never  put  wholly  out  again ; 
though  it  was  far  from  satisfying,  yet  it  kept  from  despair 
as  to  the  issue. 

About  this  time,  one  Mr.  Donaldson,  a  reverend  old 
minister,  preached  at  Perth,  and  came  to  visit  my  mother. 
He  called  for  me,  and,  among  other  questions,  he  asked 
me  if  I  sought  a  blessing  on  my  learning.  To  which  I 
ingenuously  answered,  "  No.''  He  replied  with  austere 
look,  "  Sir,  unsanctified  learning  has  done  much  mischief 
to  the  kirk  of  God."  This  saying  stuck  with  me  ever 
after,  and  left  a  deep  impression  on  me:  so  that  whenever 
I  was  any  way  straitened,  I  applied  to  God  by  prayer 
for  help  in  my  learning,  and  pardon  for  not  seeking  his 
blessing.  But  this  was  only  when.  I  had  more  than  ordi- 
nary difficulties. 

My  mother  designing  to  have  me  well  educated,  for  the 
advantage  of  better  schools  in  harvest,  1690  or  1691, 
removed  to  Edinburgh,  and  fixed  me  at  Mr.  Gavin  Weir's 
school,  where  I  stayed,  till  November  1692,  when  I  en- 
tered the  college  under  Mr.  Alexander  Cunningham. 
Here  it  was  my  mercy  that  I  fell  in  with  sober  comrades 
and  studiously  inclined. 

While  I  abode  here,  the  Lord  gave  not  over  his  deal- 
ings with  me.  Long  also  did  he  bear  with  my  manners. 
In  this  place  the  work  went  on;  for   1.    As  knowledge 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  97 

increased,  so  convictions,  if  not  in  force,  yet  in  number 
increased  ;  still  as  knowledge  of  the  law  grew,  which  it 
daily  did,  under  the  means  of  grace,  the  knowledge  of  sin 
also  grew  :  'For  by  the  law  is  the  knowledge  of  sin.' 
The  Lord  daily  let  me  see  that  he  was  wroth  on  account 
of  sins  that  formerly  I  had  not  noticed.  2.  By  new 
afflictions  the  impressions  of  my  mortality  were  riveted, 
and  I  was  still  the  further  in  bondage  through  the  grow- 
ing fears  of  death.  3  The  word  being  daily  preached, 
and  daily  meetino^  with  me,  forced  me,  thousrh  unwilling, 
to  make  some  inquiry  into  my  sincerity  in  religion,  which 
I  now  made  some  profession  of,  A  close  word  will,  at 
length,  even  bring  a  Judas  to  say,  '  Master,  is  it  I?' 
4.  By  the  means  of  grace,  Herod-like,  to  save  some 
bosom  idols,  I  engaged  to  do  many  things  and  hear  the 
word  gladly. 

The  means  whereby  these  effects  were  wrought  were 
1.  The  preaching  of  the  word.  '  By  the  two  edged  sword 
that  goes  out  of  his  mouth,'  the  Lord  did  often  woimd 
me,  and  the  secrets  of  my  heart  were  made  manifest.  I 
found  the  word  a  discerner  of  the  thoughts  and  intents  of 
the  heart.  2.  The  Lord  made  use  of  the  rod.  He  laid 
his  hand  on  me.  When  I  was  well  and  in  health  the 
word  did  not  affect  me  so  much,  nor  did  I  attend  to  it  so 
carefully.  '  I  spake  unto  thee  in  thy  prosperity  and  thou 
wouldest  not  hear.'  '  In  their  affliction  they  will  seek  me 
early.'  3.  1  read  Shepard's  treatise  called  the  "  Sincere 
Convert,"  which  cut  me  to  the  quick  :  It  came  very  close 
home  to  me  and  affected  me  very  much,  and  put  me  to 
question  deeply  my  sincerity. 

I  was  driven  sometimes  to  great  extremity,  and  carried 
the  length  of  a  form  of  religion.  I  prayed  not  only  even- 
ing and  morning,  but  at  some   other  times  retired  and 


98  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

would  weep  plentifully  in  secret,  and  read  and  pray,  and 
resolve  to  live  otherwise  than  I  had  done.  But  this  good- 
ness was  '  as  the  morning  cloud  and  early  dew.'  It  kept 
pace  with  my  convictions.  It  was  force,  not  nature  :  and 
this  strictness  lasted  no  longer  than  the  force  that  occa- 
sioned it  did. 

While  I  was  under  these  distresses  many  a  wicked  ex- 
pedient did  I  resort  to  for  relief,  though  without  effect. 
If  anything  was  spoken  or  mentioned,  that  appeared  in 
my  favor,  then  I  eagerly  clung  to  that,  for  I  was  very  un- 
willing to  see  my  own  hypocrisy,  and  therefore,  if  I  had 
but  a  show  to  found  mj^  claim  on,  I  laid  hold  on  what  was 
offered  ;  like  the  young  man,  who  answered,  being  unac- 
quainted with  the  spiritual  extent  of  the  law.  'AH  these 
things  have  I  kept  from  my  youth,  what  lack  I  yet  V  So 
said  I.  When  I  found  somewhat  required  that  I  neither 
had  complied  with,  nor  meant  t-o  comply  with,  because 
perhaps  it  was  on  some  account  or  other,  dear,  then  I  re- 
solved to  compound  the  matter  and  make  amends  some 
other  way  ;  and  beg  a  license  for  that  like  Naaman. 
When  any  Christian  characteristic  was  adduced  that  I 
could  not  pretend  to,  then  I  was  ready  to  question  wheth- 
er he  that  offered  it  were  not  mistaken,  and  secretly  ques- 
tioned the  truth,  following  the  measure  that  Satan  took 
with  Eve.  When  I  was  unable  to  see,  not  through  the 
want  of  sufficient  light,  but  through  my  unwillingness  to 
admit  it,  I  was  ready  to  quarrel  that  ministers  and 
books  did  not  tell  me  plainly.  Sometimes  when  1  met 
with  that  w^hich  plainly  condemned  me,  I  promised  it  a 
hearing  at  a  more  convenient  season,  and  so,  like  Felix, 
shifted  the  trouble  for  the  time.  Sometimes  I  would  slip 
over  those  things  that  were  against  me.  '  He  that  doeth 
evil  Cometh  not  to  the  light,  because  his  deeds  are  evil, 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  99 

lest  his  deeds  should  be  reproved.'  I  carefully  sought  for 
the  lowest  marks  and  the  least  degrees  of  grace  that 
might  be  saving.  I  designed  only  as  much  religion  as 
would  take  me  to  heaven :  and  therefore  1  still  inquired 
whh  the  young  man,  '  What  good  thing  shall  I  do  that  I 
may  inherit  eternal  life  ? '  1  desired  no  more  than  would 
serve  this  turn :  and  anything  that  could  serve  this,  pro- 
vided my  beloved  lusts  were  spared,  I  would  consent  to. 
When  none  of  these  shifts  would  avail,  in  the  general,  I 
would  resolve  upon  doing  anything  that  the  Lord  requir- 
ed, like  him  who  said,  '  Lord,  I  will  follow  thee  whitherso- 
ever thou  goest.'  But  then,  with  him  I  still  retracted, 
when  the  Lord,  as  he  often  did,  told  me  of  particulars  he 
would  try  me  in,  which  were  to  cross  my  inclination. 
When  I  saw  I  must  quit  these  of  which  the  Lord  often 
convinced  me,  then  I  begged  a  little  respite  or  delay,  after 
which  I  would  comply.  Augustine-hke,  I  was  content 
to  be  holy  but  not  yet.  An  excuse,  a  delay  in  God's  ac- 
count is  a  plain  refusal :  for  all  commands  and  invitations 
require  present  obedience.  '  Now  is  the  accepted  time, 
now  is  the  day  of  salvation.'  After  all  my  ways  were 
tried,  I  found  no  relief..  I  blamed  my  education,  I  knew 
there  was  some  change;  my  question  was  whether  it 
were  the  right  one.  Now,  thought  I,  if  I  had  not  been  re- 
ligiously educated,  but  had  turned  all  at  once,  it  would 
have  been  more  easily  discernible.  Thus  I  was  entan- 
gled in  my  own  ways.  And  the  true  reason  of  my 
strait  was,  I  was  shunning,  and  not  really  desirous  of 
light  unless  it  had  been  in  my  favor.  Many  other  deceits 
and  shifts  my  heart  used,  which  now,  at  so  great  a  dis- 
tance, I  cannot  remember. 

Though    now    I  seemed  someiinies   to  have  gone   far, 
yet  really  I  was  wholly  wrong,  for  1.  All  this  while  be- 


100  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

ing  convinced  of  the  necessity  of  a  righteousness,  but 
ignorant  of  Christ;  'I  sought  it  bj  the  works  of  the 
law.'  2.  The  carnal  mind,  that  is  enmity  against  God 
and  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  God,  still  continued.  3. 
All  my  exercise  was  only  a  tossing  betwixt  light  and  love 
to  sin:  and  sin  still  carried  it,  for  my  bosom  idols  I 
-would  by  no  means  part  wilh.  4.  Self  was  the  anima- 
ting ])rinciple  of  any  form  of  religion  that  1  had  ;  so  much 
as  would  save  from  hell  or  take  me  to  heaven  and  no 
more  I  desired.  5.  All  this  religion  came  and  went  with 
such  occasions  mentioned:  it  was  not  abiding. 

Providentially,  about  this  time,  Clark's  "  Martyrology," 
was  cast  into  my  hand.  I  loved  history,  and  read  it  with 
eagerness,  and  some  impressions  it  left  on  me  that  wanted 
not  their  own  use  then  nor  afterwards;  1.  The  patience, 
joy,  and  courage  of  the  martyrs  persuaded  me  that  there 
was  a  power,  a  validity  in  religion,  beyond  the  power  of 
mere  nature.  2.  I  was  convinced  that  I  was  a  stranger 
as  yet  to  this,  because  [  could  not  think  of  suffering.  3. 
I  was  brought  to  some  faint  desires  after  acquaintance 
with  this  power  of  religion. 

I  observe  that  at  this  time,  1.  God  restrained  me  from 
many  follies  others  ran  into,  and  to  which  I  was  much 
inclined  by  my  bodily  infirmity,  a  trouble  in  my  joints 
which  made  me  unable  to  walk.  '  Thus  he  hedged  in  my 
way,'  that  1  should  not  find  my  lovers.  2.  The  Lord  in 
mercy  provided  me  companions  that  w^ere  tender  of  me 
and  took  care  of  me.  '  He  fed  me  and  led  me  though  I 
knew  him  not.' 

The  air  agreeing  neither  with  my  mother  nor  mysel , 
she  was  advised,  and  at  length  resolved,  to  leave  Edin- 
burgh, and  go  to  St,  Andrews,  a  place  more  wholesome 
and  more  convenient  for  my  education,  to  which  she  had 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  101 

a  special  regard.  When  I  settled  at  St.  Andrews,  the 
Lord  left  not  his  work  of  striving  with  me;  but  the  same 
sovereign  grace  that  began  went  on  with  it. 

Here  the  Lord  cast  my  lot  under  choice  means  of  grace, 
the  ministry  of  worthy  Mr.  Thomas  Forrester.  Under 
this  searching  ministry,  the  Lord  began  to  give  me  some 
small  discoveries  of  the  more  secret  and  spiritual  evil  of  my 
heart,  and  carried  me  into  the  secret  chambers  of  imagery, 
to  let  me  see  what  were  the  hidden  operations  of  my  heart. 
He  opened  my  eyes  to  discern  somewhat  of  that  world  of 
pride  that  is  in  the  heart,  and  the  wickedness  of  it. 
Though  I  was  to  some  extent  convinced  of  my  own 
w^eakness,  when  I  had  anj'-  difRculty  m.ore  than  ordinary 
before  me,  I  would  seek  help  from  God,  yet  when  I  got 
through  I  valued  myself  upon  my  deliverance.  Of  the 
wickedness  and  injustice  of  this,  the  Lord,  in  some  meas- 
ure, convinced  me.  He  convinced  me  of  the  wickedness 
of  the  strajnng  of  ray  heart  after  idols,  especially  in  the 
time  of  worship,  I  was  made  to  see,  in  some  measure, 
the  danger  of  offering  such  duties  to  him.  I  was  like- 
wise led  to  see  that  1  was  trusting  to  my  duties,  and  rest- 
ing on  the  bare  performance.  With  the  Pharisee  I  had 
thought  it  enough  if  I  could  say,  '  I  fast  twice  in  a  week.' 
The  Lord  convinced  me  that  he  might  answer,  '  When 
ye  fasted,  did  ye  at  all  fast  unto  me,  even  to  me  ? ' 

These,  when  added  to  former  discoveries  of  guilt,  gave 
me  frequently  much  uneasiness,  and  cast  me  into  racking 
perplexity  and  disquietude;  but  the  darkness  and  enmity 
of  my  mind  remaining,  I  still  had  recourse  to  wicked  and 
vain  courses  for  peace,  such  as  those  before  mentioned ; 
but  they  afforded  me  little  quiet.  Pharaoh-like,  1  engaged 
to  mend  those  things  wherein  formerly  I  had  failed  ;  but 
with  him,  I  quickly  broke  my  promises,  when  my  anxie- 
10 


102  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

ty  was  over.  At  last,  finding  no  peace  in  any  of  these 
courses,  I  resolved  to  enter  into  solemn  covenant  with 
the  Lord ;  and,  accordingly,  I  wrote  and  subscribed  a 
solemn  covenant,  whereby  I  bound  myself  to  be  his:  like 
Isaiah,  when  under  the  awful  impressions  of  Sinai  and 
the  dreadful  appearance  of  God,  then,  I  said,  '  All  that  the 
Lord  our  God  shall  say  unto  us,  we  will  hear  and  do  it.' 
and  like  the  scribe  that  came  to  Christ,  '  Master,  I  will 
follow  thee,  whithersoever  thou  goest.' 

When  I  had  once  done  this,  I  concluded  all  was  right ; 
for  I  found  a  sort  of  present  peace.  Amendment  1  thought 
sufficient  atonement,  and  such  an  engagement  1  looked 
on  as  actual  performance.  '  1  now  said  :  '  1  have  peace- 
offerings  with  me :  this  day  I  have  paid  my  vows.'  At 
this  time  I  found  frequently  an  unusual  sweetness  in  the 
word;  especially  in  hearing  Mr.  Forrester  lecture  on 
Acts  13:  52.  on  Sabbath  night.  There,  as  1  received 
sometimes  the  most  piercing  convictions,  so  I  received 
'  tastes  of  the  good  word  of  God  and  the  powers  of  the 
world  to  come.'  Thus,  like  the  stony-ground  hearers, 
•  I  heard  the  word  and  anon  with  joy  received  it.'  Com- 
mon gifts  increasing  as  light  increased,  I  took  them  for 
special  grace,  and  thus,  having  taken  up  like  the  foolish 
virgins,  the  lamp  of  a  profession  without  the  oil,  I  began 
to  be  esteemed  by  some  for  that  which  really  I  was  not, 
but  only  appeared  to  be. 

But  the  merciful  and  good  God  would  not  suffer  me  to 
rest  here.  The  Lord  quickly  let  me  see  my  mistake. 
The  imaginary  peace  that  I  had  by  making  this  covenant 
\vas  quickly  lost  by  breaking  it.  Corruption  retaining 
still  its  power,  its  locks  being  not  yet  shorn,  whenever  a 
temptation  offered,  like  Sampson  upon  a  cry  of  the  Philis- 
tines being  on  him,  it  broke  all  those  ties  with  which  I 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  103 

foolishly  thought  it  bound.  Like  the  children  of  Israel 
at  Sinai,  I  engaged  firmly  and  herein  thought  all  right ; 
but  when  I  came  to  Kibroth-hattaavah,  which  was  the 
next  station  in  their  course  through  the  wilderness,  and  a 
temptation  fell  in  my  way,  I  began  to  murmur,  loathing 
the  manna  and  lusting  after  flesh ;  and  this  broke  all. 
The  Lord's  wrath  hereon  being  afresh  intimated  against 
me,  as  it  was  against  them  on  that  occasion.  Not  only 
upon  such  breaches  met  I  with  new  challenges,  but  old 
ones  were  revived,  and  by  this  I  found  former  accounts 
still  standing  against  me,  which  filled  me  with  confusions 
and  jealousies  of  these  wrjs.  The  Lord  insinuated  some 
discoveries  of  the  treachery  of  my  engagements,  let  me 
see  that  my  heart  was  not  sound,  and  that  there  were  se- 
cret reserves  in  my  engagements,  for  some  sins  from 
which  my  heart  was  not  divorced,  though  yet  I  remember, 
that  at  the  time  I  made  these  engagements,  when  my 
heart  put  in  for  sparing  these  sins,  my  light  forced  me 
as  it  were  for  the  present,  though  not  without  reluctance, 
to  give  them  up,  at  least,  in  words :  but  really  I  did  not  do  it. 
The  Lord  let  loose  some  corruptions,  like  the  Canaanites  to 
try  me,  took  oflf  the  restraints,  and  then  like  water  confined 
in,  they  became  more  violent  and  troublesome,  and  at  length 
bore  down  all  that  I  had  set  in  their  way.  By  these  means, 
the  Lord  let  me  see  the  fruitlessness  and  vanity  of  this  cov- 
enant, which,  however  specious,  was  but  a  covenant  with 
death,  and  by  the  discovery,  I  was  put  into  the  utmost 
confusion,  while  the  evil  I  thought  1  was  provided  against, 
came  upon  me. 

Notwithstanding  I  realized  the  vanity  of  these  legal, 
selfish,  anti-evangelical  courses,  I  still  cleaved  to  them  ; 
for  the  peace  I  lost  by  breaking,  1  still  endeavored  to  re- 
cover by  renewing   my   covenant,  trusting  myself  in  the 


104  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

greatness  of  my  way,  and  laboring  in  the  fire.  I  laid  the 
blame  still  on  some  accidental  defect  in  my  former  man- 
agement, and  I  thought,  were  that  provided  against,  all 
would  be  well.  When  still  I  found  something  wanting, 
I  cast  about  in  my  own  mind  and  contrived  to  make  it 
up  with  something  extraordinary  of  my  own,  —  the  mul- 
tiplication of  duties,  or  some  such  thing. 

Now,  as  I  was  really  miserable  in  following  these 
courses,  so,  if  the  Lord  of  infinite  njercy  had  not  prevent- 
ed it,  I  had  landed  in  one  of  four  sad  issues,  wherein  often- 
times such  exercises  and  courses  terminate:  either  1.  If  I 
had  been  freed  from  convictions,  or  the  Lord  had  given 
over  his  striving  with  me,  after  I  had  been  carried  the 
length  of  a  form  of  religion,  I  had  surely,  notwithstanding 
all  the  disappointments,  sat  down  satisfied  with  that,  as 
having  by  the  endeavors  of  my  hand  and  its  labors,  ob- 
tained that  which  would  give  me  a  sort  of  life.  Or,  2. 
If  convictions  had  been  carried  on,  and  the  Lord  had  left 
me  still  to  follow  the  courses  I  took,  I  should  have  labor- 
ed in  the  fire  all  my  days,  wearied  and  vexed  myself  for 
very  vanity,  spending  my  money  for  that  which  is  not 
bread,  and  my  labor  for  that  which  does  net  profit ;  in  a 
continual  vicissitude  of  vows,  covenants,  engagements, 
and  resolutions ;  engagements  and  false  peace;  breaches 
and  racking  convictions,  would  alternately  have  taken 
place,  and  thus  I  should  have  spent  m}^  daj's,  and,  at  the 
end,  have  been  a  fool.  Or,  3.  After  I  had  wearied  my- 
self, for  a  while  in  those  vain  ways,  I  should  utterly  have 
given  up  religion  as  a  vain  thing,  and  have  said  with 
those  mentioned  by  the  prophet,  *  It  is  vain  to  serve  God  : 
and  what  profit  is  it  that  we  h  ive  kept  his  ordinance,  and 
that  we  have  walked  mournfully  before  the  Lord  of  hosts?' 
and  so  with  them  I  had  gone  over  to  plain  atheism  and 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  105 

profanity.  Or,  4.  Being  forced  to  seek  shelter  from  my 
convictions,  and  being  so  often  and  sadl  v'  disappointed  by 
all  the  ways  I  tried,  1  had  at  last  ended  in  despair  like 
Judas,  and  said,  '  This  evil  is  of  the  Lord,  why  should  I 
wait  for  the  Lord  any  longer?'  like  the  wicked  king  of 
Israel.  And  in  very  deed,  I  had  some  experience  of  all 
these  issues. 

When  I  was  thus  disappointed,  especially  after  the 
makini^  and  frequent  repeating  of  vows  and  engage- 
ments, I  was  cast  into  the  utmost  perplexity  to  find  where 
the  fault  lay.  I  found  this  way  of  covenanting  with- 
God  recommended  by  ministers,  mentioned  in  the  Scrip- 
ture, and  the  people  of  God  declared  they  had  found  the 
benefit  of  it.  I  could  not  challenge  myself,  at  least,  at 
some  time,  for  known  guilt  in  the  making  of  it.  What 
I  engaged  to  do,  I  was  resolved  upon  at  the  time,  I  did 
engage  with  much  concern  and  solemnity;  and,  for  some 
time  after,  [would  have  walked  with  much  strictness; 
but,  though  I  could  nor  then  discern  where  the  blame  lay, 
1  have  since  been  made  to  see  it.  1.  Being  ignorant  of 
the  righteousness  of  God,  1  still  went  about  to  estabUsh  a 
righteousness  of  my  own.  And,  though  in  w^ords  I  re- 
nounced this,  yet  indeed,  I  souglit  righteousness  and 
peace,  not  in  the  •  Lord  Jesus  Christ  who  is  the  end  of 
the  law  for  every  one  that  believeth,'  but  in  m.y  own  cov- 
enants and  engagements ;  so  that  I  really  put  them  in 
Christ's  room.  2.  Whatever  room  I,  in  words,  allowed 
Christ  as  to  forgiveness  for  bygone  sins,  yet  my  peace 
and  hope  of  it  or  the  future,  and  hence  my  trust,  was  in 
the  evenness  of  my  own  walk  ;  I  obtained  not  righteous- 
ness, because  I  '  sought  it,  as  it  were,  by  the  works  of  the 
law.'  This  neglect  of  Christ  and  shuffling  my  own  cov- 
enants and  obedience  in  his  room,  was  evident :  becausei 
•10 


106  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

whenever  I  was  challenged  for  sin,  instead  of  liaving  re- 
cou.se  to  his  blood,  I  still  sought  peace  only  in  renewing 
my  vows.  3.  The  consent  I  gave  to  the  law,  was  not 
from  the  reconcilement  of  my  heart  to  its  holiness,  but 
merely  in  compliance  with  the  constraint  put  upon  me  by 
convictions  ;  but  in  very  deed  '  the  enmity  against  it,'  still 
contmued.  And  I  would  not  have  made  it  my  choice,  if 
that  had  not  forced  me  to  it.  4.  I  engaged  to  live  a  new 
life  with  an  old  heart,  not  being  yet  made  to  see,  that 
unless  the  tree  is  made  good  the  Iruit  cannot  be  good. 
5.  The  eye  was  not  single.  All  I  aimed  at  was  self, 
to  be  eased  of  convictions  and  obtain  peace  from  these 
racking  disquietments  1  was  under.  I  had  not  the  least 
concern  for  the  Lord's  glory,  provided  I  were  safe.  6.  In 
a  word,  I  engaged  before  the  Lord  had  thoroughly  en- 
gaged me.  We  may  be  willing  in  some  sort  before  the 
Lord  hath  made  us  willing.  The  first  real  kindness  be- 
gins on  his  side ;  and  we  are  never  engaged  to  love,  till 
the  Lord's  kindness  draws  us.  The  force  of  convictions 
may  overpower  us  into  some  pretensions  of  kmdness  ;  thus 
it  was  with  me.  Willing  I  was  to  be  saved  from  hell, 
and  to  have  heaven  under  the  general  notion  of  a  good 
place:  but  not  to  be  saved  in  God's  way,  on  his  terms; 
and  in  order  to  the  ends  he  proposes  in  the  salvation  of 
sinners. 

This  was  not  my  only  trouble  at  this  time.  Now  I 
was  engaged  in  the  study  of  metaphysics  and  natural 
theology,  accustomed  to  subtle  notions,  and  fascinated  by 
them;  whereupon,  Satan,  in  conjunction  with  the  natu- 
ral atheism  of  my  heart,  took  occasion  to  cast  me  into 
racking  disquietude  about  the  great  truths  of  religion, 
more  especially  the  being  of  a  God.  Thus,  in  the  justice 
of  God,  that  wherein   I  delighted,  I  mean  subtle  and  ab- 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  107 

stract  notions,  proved  the  occasionof  much  perplexing  diffi- 
culty to  me.  For,  1.  Some  seeming  success  in  my  stud- 
ies, the  first  year  I  engaged  in  the  study  of  philosophy, 
fostered  the  natural  conceit  we  all  have  of  our  own  ability, 
and  emboldened  me  to  proceed  farther  than  was  meet.  So 
true  is  that  saying,  '  Knowledge  puffeth  up.'  Hereon  the 
natural  curiosity  of  my  vain  mind  took  a  liberty  to  in- 
quire, without  fear,  into  things  too  high,  and  made  me 
promise  myself  satisfaction  about  them,  in  and  by  my 
own  inquiries.  '  Vain  man  would  be  wise,  though  man 
be  born  like  a  wild  ass's  colt.'  Thus  he  intrudes  into 
those  things  which  he  hath  not  seen,  'Vainly  puffed  up 
by  his  fleshly  mind.'  3.  And  hereon  sufFt-ring  a  disap- 
pointment, and  failing  of  success,  the  natural  atheism  and 
enmity  of  my  carnal  mind,  that  rather  inclines  to  reject 
the  things  of  God  than  our  own  darkness,  began  when 
puzzled  to  inquire,  '  How  can  these  things  be?'  Thus 
professing  myself  wise,  I  became  a  fool.  4.  Satan,  who 
waits  all  advantages,  finding  me  thus  caught  in  the  thick- 
et, plunged  me  deeper,  hy  throwing  in  '  fiery  darts,'  of 
subtle  arguings  against  the  being  of  a  God,  whereby  all 
was  set  on  flame,  and  sometimes  cast  into  violent  con- 
vulsions. 

Though  the  atheism  and  enmity  of  my  heart  against 
God,  were  still  un removed  and  great,  yet  the  Lord  suffer- 
ed me  not  to  yield,  but  made  me  recoil  at  the  terrible  con- 
clusion aimed  at  by  these  arguings. 

During  this  period  of  tim.e,  under  all  these  wrestlings 
and  strugglings  betwixt  growing  light  and  sin,  corrup- 
tions, as  I  grew  in  years,  became  stronger  and  stronger, 
took  deeper  root  and  received  an  increase  of  strength  by 
occasional  temptations,  and  new  force  from  the  weak  re- 
sistance made  to  them  by  these  vain  courses.     As  the 


108  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

law  came  nearer  to  its  spiritual  meaning  and  extent,  sin 
revived,  and  appeared  more  discernible  in  its  strength, 
'  and  sin  taking  occasion  by  the  commandment,  wrought 
me  inclinations  to  all  evil,'  and  the  power  of  sin  increased 
until  it  slew  me. 

Under  this  perplexity,  I  betook  myself  still  to  vain 
courses.  *I  gadded  about  to  change  my  way;  sent  to 
Egypt,  and  v/ent  to  Assyria,  yet  could  not  they  help  me.' 
But  yet  these  exercises  and  perplexities  had  some  in- 
termissions, and  then  I  grew  remiss  and  careless.  '  My 
goodness,  like  the  morning  cloud  and  early  dew,  soon 
passed  away' 

However  by  these  means,  I  was  brought  to  a  specious 
form  of  religion.  For  now,  1.  I  took  some  care  to  avoid 
those  sins,  whether  secret  or  open,  which  thwarted  the 
light  of  my  conscience  most  plainly.  I  not  only  abstained 
from  those  evi^s  to  which  most  even  of  the  more  sober 
sort  of  students,  were  frequently  drawn  into,  but  with  a 
sort  of  resolution,  I  kept  at  a  distance  from  the  occa- 
sions of  them.  Thus  I  began  to  escape  the  pollutions  of 
the  world  through  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  2.  I  was 
now  more  exact  and  punctual  in  attending  duties,  public, 
private  and  secret,  than  heretofore,  and  that  not  without 
some  concern,  at  least  sometimes,  as  to  my  inward  frame 
in  them.  Thus  I  thought  I  kept  his  ordinances.  3.  When 
I  was  ensnared  either  into  the  commission  of  sins  or  the 
omission  of  duty,  I  was  brought  to  a  deep  sorrow,  and  for 
some  time  '  walked  mournfully  before  God.'  4.  Whereas 
I  alwaj^s  had  a  sort  of  awful  regard  for  them  that  feared 
God,  ever  since  I  began  to  be  in  the  least  awakened,  now 
I  began  to  have  a  sort  of  affection  for  them,  and  pleasure 
in  their  company,  and  to  converse  even,  about  matters  of 
religion.     Thus  light  forced  an  approbation  of  them  on 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  109 

my  mind,  and  to  give  the  glory  to  God,  their  light  so 
shone  before  me,  that  I  could  not  but  lake  notice  of  them. 
5.  I  had  frequent  '  tastes  of  the  word  of  God  and  the 
powers  of  the  world  to  come,'  which  made  me  del  ght  in 
approaching  to  God.  And  6.  1  seemed  to  receive  some- 
thing like  an  answer  to  my  petitions,  when,  under  a  sense 
of  impotency,  I  betook  myself  to  God  by  prayer.  In  any 
strait,  I  found  help  so  remarkable,  that  I  could  but  take 
notice  of  it.  The  Lord  hereby  drew  me  gradually  in  to 
expect  good  in  his  way  ;  and  though  I  was  wrong  in  the 
main,  as  it  were,  encouraged  the  faintest  beginnings  of  a 
look  towards  a  return. 

Now,  though  I  got  'a  name  to  live,  yet  really  I  was 
dead.'  For,  my  natural  darkness  still  remained  unrf  n^oved. 
Some  dawnings  of  light  were  indeed  begun,  and  some 
discoveries  made  of  w4iat  formerly  I  had  not  known,  yet 
the  power  of  darkness  still  remained  and  the  veil  was  not 
yet  taken  away,  nor  were  spiritual  things  seen  in  a  true 
light.  The  enmity  of  my  mind  against  the  law,  espe- 
cially in  some  instances,  remained  in  force,  tl  ere  w'as 
not  '  a  respect  to  all  God's  commands.'  I  had  not  3'et  a 
sight  of  the  beauty  of  holiness.  Nor  did  1,  in  my  heart, 
approve  the  whole  yoke  of  God's  precepts  as  good  and 
desirable.  It  was  not  that  I  delighted  in  holmess  and 
conformity  to  the  law,  at  least  m  some  instances,  but  that 
I  was  undone  without  it,  that  made  me  aim  at  any  sort 
of  compliance.  I  yet  sought  righteousness,  as  it  were,  by 
the  works  of  the  law.  I  was  wholly  legal  in  all  I  did, 
not  seeing  the  necessity'-,  the  security,  the  glory  of  the 
gospel  method  of  salvation,  by  seeking  righteousness  and 
strength  in  the  Lord  Christ  alone.  Self  was  the  spring 
of  all.  My  only  aim  was  to  be  saved  without  ^ny  regard 
to  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  or  any  inquiry  how  it  might  be 


110  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

consistent  with  it  to  save  one,  who  had  so  deeply  offended. 
In  ^  word,  all  my  religion  was  constrained,  violent,  selfish, 
legal  and  anti-evangelical  These,  not  to  mention  other 
things,  were  still  wrong. 

Wlien  I  had  studied  philosophy  three  years,  I  was 
charmed  with  it  and  somewhat  pufled  up  with  what  pro- 
gress I  had  made,  and  designed  and  expected  to  make; 
though  I  must  own,  that  still,  as  knowledge  increased, 
self-conceit  increased,  and  I  apprehended  I  knew  more 
the  first  year  than  ever  I  thought  I  knew  afterwards. 
Being  thus  prepared,  I  designed  to  go  abroad  and  improve 
m^'sclf  farther,  to  which  I  also  w\as  advised;  but  two 
things  br.ike  this  project;  my  mother  would  not  consent, 
and  ill  the  second  place,  having  been  brought  into  bond- 
age through  fear  of  death,  I  was  afraid  to  incur  the 
hazarils  I  must  run  of  my  life,  so  long  as  I  was  in  so  un- 
settled a  state  as  to  my  soul's  condition  ;  wherefore,  upon 
the  motion  of  some  friends,  I  consented  rather  to  engage 
as  chaplain  to  a  family  for  some  time. 

Accordingly,  August  1690,  I  went  to  the  Wemyss 
family.  I  came  as  a  stranger  amongst  strangers,  and 
persons  of  considerable  quality,  and  by  my  natural  diffi- 
dence, the  censoriousness  of  my  auditors,  the  publicity  of 
the  appearances  I  was  obliged  to  make,  to  which  I  had 
not  been  accustomed,  I  was  for  a  time,  in  very  great 
diflSculiy.  I  was  forced  to  retiredness,  and  to  petition  for 
help  how  to  behave;  and  though  it  was  my  own,  not  the 
Lord's  honor  which  I  designed,  and  was  concerned  for, 
yet.  He  that  heard  the  cry  of  the  ravens,  and  would  not 
overlook  Ahab's  humiliation,  or  the  Ninevites'  repentance, 
did  not  fail  me  in  my  straits,  but  helped,  so  far  as  it  was 
necessary,  to  maintain  the  respect  due  to  the  station  I  was 
in.  and  to  obtain  kindness. 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  Ill 

I  had  not  long  been  here,  when  I  \vas  often  necessarily 
and  frequently  without  sufficient  necessity,  engaged  in 
debates  about  the  tmth  of  religion,  the  divinity  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  the  most  important  doctrines  delivered  in 
them,  whereby  I  was  drawn  to  read  the  writingF  of  deists 
and  other  enemies  to  religion,  that  1  iriight  be  acquainted 
with  the  arguments  whereby  those  1  scrLeiirreshj  d  occa- 
sion to  dispute  with,  opposed  the  truth.  As  to  the  issue 
of  these  arguings,  with  respect  to  otheis,  I  shall  here 
waive  it,  because  others  are  concerned  in  it ;  only  I  may 
say,  I  found  it  true,  that  'foolish  questions  and  genealo- 
gies and  contentions  and  strivings  about  the  law  are  un- 
profitable and  vain.' 

This  was  of  a  very  dangerous  consequence  to  me,  and 
could  not  prove  otherwise  to  one  in  my  case,  for,  I 
was  not  rooted  and  grounded  in  the  truth,  being  neither 
instructed  in  the  grounds  whereon  the  Scripture  is  re- 
ceived, nor  acquainted  practically  with  its  power,  and  so 
1  was  destitute  of  that  'armor  of  light,'  which  is  neces- 
sary in  a  conflict  with  such  enemies.  The  power  of  that 
enmity  and  darkness,  which  inclines  the  vain  mind  of 
man  to  reject  and  cavil  at  the  truths  of  God  as  foolish- 
ness, still  remained  unsubdued ;  I  was,  as  the  children 
who  arc  tossed  to  and  fro  by  every  wind  of  doctrine.  The 
objections  I  found  started  were  many;  they  struck  at  the 
foundations,  were  new  and  surprising  to  one  who  was  so 
unsettled,  and  were  dressed  up  by  the  'sleight  and  cun- 
ning craftiness  of  them  who  lie  in  wait  to  deceive.'  I 
was  not  acquainted  with  that  watchfulness,  vigilance, 
and  humble  sobriety  which  was  necessary  to  prevent 
Satan's  gaining  any  advantage.  Whereupon,  Satan 
finding  so  fair  an  occasion,  would  not  lose  it ;  for  he 
goeth  about,  seeking  such  seasons ;  and  finding  things  thus 
he  improved  it  to  my  great  disquietude. 


112  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

The  adversary  finding  all  things  thus  prepared, 
attacked  me  furiously,  and  employed  many  against  me. 
He  wrought  up  the  natural  atheism,  darkness,  and  enmity 
of  my  heart,  to  vent  itself  against  the  truths  of  religion  in 
foolish  inquiries.  Is  it  so?  '  How  can  these  things  be?' 
and  what  authority  hast  thou,  since  thou  rcquirest  such 
things?  The  mystery  of  the  gospel  was  particularly 
represented  as  foolishness,  as  setting  up  new  gods,  and  often 
was  I  led  to  answer,  '  How  can  these  things  be  ? ' 

The  subtle  enemy  who  had  often  tempted  me  to  high 
thoughts  of  mj^self,  now  when  he  found  it  for  his  purpose, 
urged  upon  me  mean  thoughts  of  myself,  and  pressed  me 
to  a  false  sort  of  humility.  He  often  whispered  in  my 
ear,  It  is  vain  for  you  to  expect  to  rid  yourself  of  these 
difficulties,  when  so  many  learned  m.en,  who  have  studied 
the  point  with  so  much  care,  and  who  were  far  more 
qualified  to  discern  the  truth,  cannot  reach  satisfaction,  but 
have  rejected  them.  '  Have  any  of  the  rulers  or  the  Phari- 
sees believed  on  him?  But  this  people  v.'ho  knoweth  not 
the  law,  are  cursed.' 

By  this  I  was  brought  into  grievous  perplexity  and 
many  sad  tossings.  'My  tears  have  been  my  meat  day 
and  night,  while  they  continually  say  unto  me,  Where  is 
thj^God?'  Still  I  tried  wrong- courses.  I  attempted  by 
my  ov.-n  reasonings,  to  relieve  myself.  '  I  thought  to 
know  this.'  Whpu  this  failed,  I  bought  and  read  books 
written  about  the  truth  of  religion.  This  indeed,  had  it 
been  kept  in  its  own  place,  was  allowable  and  useful,  but 
I  expected  more  than  I  had  reason  to  look  for;  and  as  I 
used  it,  this  was  onl}^  the  fruit  of  unbelief,  and  a  vain 
course,  running  to  Ashur,  sending  to  Egypt.  I  wished 
for  visions,  voices,  or  some  extraordinary  course.  '  Nay, 
but  if  one  went  unto  them  from  the  dead,  they  will  be- 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  113 

lieve.'  When  these  failed,  with  the  sluggard,  I  sat  down 
discouraged.  '  The  fool  foldeth  his  hands  together,  and 
eateth  his  own  flesh.'  I  sometimes  betook  myself  to 
prayer ;  but  herein  I  did  not  succeed,  not  seeking  in  the 
right  way,  nor  to  right  ends. 

But  all  these  ways  failed  me.  As  to  my  own  reason- 
ings, they  avail  not  against  Him  who  esteems  '  iron  as 
straw,  and  brass  as  rotten  wood.'  '  When  I  thought  to 
know  it,  it  was  too  painful,'  it  was  labor  in  mine  eyes. 
As  for  books,  they  not  only  satisfied  not  as  to  the  things 
they  mentioned,  but  many  of  my  scruples  were  such  as 
were  overlooked  by  them,  so  that  they  proved  physicians 
of  no  value.  As  to  extraordinary  expectations,  God  justly 
rejected  them.  '  They  have  Moses  and  the  prophets,  and 
if  they  will  not  believe  them,  neither  would  they  believe 
though  one  should  rise  from  the  dead.'  My  sloth  still 
increased  my  trouble;  that  foolish  poring  fretted  my 
spirit ;  '  The  desire  of  the  slothful  killeth  him,  because  his 
hands  refuse  to  labor.' 

1  had  quite  sunk  under  the  weight  of  this  trouble,  and 
had  been  swallowed  up  of  sorrow,  and  landed  in  despair, 
if  its  force  had  not  been  somewhat  abated  by  occasional 
considerations  that  were,  by  the  good  hand  of  God,  some- 
times in  one  way,  sometimes  another,  brought  to  my 
mind:  1.  When  the  hellish  conclusions  at  which  all 
these  temptations  aimed,  the  renouncing  of  religion, 
rejecting  the  Scriptures,  &c.  were  urged,  it  was  often  sea- 
sonably suggested,  '  To  whom  shall  we  go?  Thou  hast 
the  words  of  eternal  life.'  2.  Upon  a  due  observation  of 
those  who  were  truly  religious,  I  could  not  but  look  on 
them,  though  their  real  worth  I  did  not  discern,  as  the 
better  part  of  mankind  ;  and  the  Lord  created  a  dread  in 
my  soul  of  conclusions  that  imported  the  charge  of  a  lie 
11 


114  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

in  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance,  against  the  better 
part  of  mankind.  '  If  I  say  I  will  speak  thus,  I  should 
offend  against  the  generation  of  thy  children.'  3.  The 
Lord  opened  my  eyes  to  see  the  abominable  folly  of  those 
who  abandoned  revealed  religion  ;  not  to  mention  the  im- 
pious lives  of  the  generality,  I  saw  the  more  sober  part, 
guilty  of  unaccountable  folly.  4.  The  shining  evidence 
of  the  power  of  religion  in  the  hves,  but  more  especially 
in  the  deaths  of  the  martyrs,  whom  1  had  formerly  read 
of,  assured  me  as  to  this,  that  there  is  a  reality  in  religion, 
when  '  I  was  beat  from  all  other  holds.'  5.  The  known 
instances  of  the  power  of  religion  in  children  in  their 
tender  years,  was  of  great  use  sometimes,  and  appeared  of 
great  weight ;  it  checked  the  force  of  temptations  that 
drove  me  to  doubt  of  the  reality  of  religion.  Thus,  'out 
of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings,  the  Lord  ordained 
strength,'  and  in  some  measure,  stilled  the  enemy  and  the 
avenger.  6.  The  sensible  and  violent  opposition  I  found 
Satan  making  to  the  Scriptures  in  all  the  ways  before- 
mentioned,  was  often  staying,  and  persuaded  me  in  some 
measure  that  there  must  be  a  reality  in  religion,  and  I 
could  not  see  what  could  induce  him  thus  to  oppose  it,  if 
it  were  a  cheat.  '  Is  Satan  divided  V  7.  I  had  frequent 
convictions;  and  thus  finding  the  power  and  piercing 
virtue  of  the  word  making  manifest  the  secrets  of  my 
heart,  I  was  forced  to  fall  down,  and  own  God  to  be  in  it 
of  a  truth. 

As  by  these,  and  the  like  means,  the  force  of  the 
temptation  was  somewhat  broken,  so  I  was  encouraged  to 
several  things  in  which  I  have  reason  to  own  God  was 
kind  to  me  in  holding  me  to  them  ;  hereby  I  was  engaged 
to  hold  on  in  an  attendance,  with  more  concern  in  duties 
of  religion,  public,  private  and  secret ;  and  so  '  to  wait  at 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  115 

wisdom's  door-post,'  which  afterwards,  I  found  the  advan- 
tage of.  I  was  enabled  to  conceal  all  my  own  straits 
from  others,  who,  thereby  might  either  have  been  stum- 
bled or  hardened  in  their  evil  way.  1  was  unwilling 
others  should  know  anything  that  might  disgust  them  at 
religion.  In  conversing  with  such  as  were  shaken,  1 
still  endeavored  to  advocate  the  tmih,  as  if  I  had  been 
under  no  doubt  about  it  5  and  I  must  own  that  while  I 
did  so,  the  Lord  often  countenanced  me,  and  satisfied  me 
as  to  what  I  had  formerly  been  disquieted  about.  How 
good  a  Master  is  God  !  A  word  spoken  for  him  is  not 
lost ;  nor  will  he  suffer  the  service  to  pass  unrewarded  ;  a 
heathen  Cyrus  must  have  his  hire,  and  so  must  Nebu- 
chadnezzar. 

Before  I  leave  this,  I  must  observe  some  things  which 
the  Lord  taught  me  by  this  exercise.  1  I  hereby  learned 
the  vanity  and  danger  of  reasoning  with  Satan.  When 
I  began  to  answer  him  with  my  own  reasonings,  he  had 
still  great  advantage;  he  easily  evaded  all  my  arguments, 
and  easily  repelled  my  answers,  and  enforced  his  sugges- 
tions :  and  when  his  suggestions  were  to  be  maintained 
in  point  of  arguments,  he  poured  them  forth  with  such 
impudent  violence,  that  I  was  not  able  to  stand  against 
him.  Our  safest  course  is  to  resist,  and  to  hold  at  a  dis- 
tance, to  avoid  communing  with  him. 

This  exercise  had  sundry  effects  upon  me.  1.  The 
fears  I  was  brought  under,  fixed  a  deeper  sense  of  my 
frailty  in  general  on  me.  2.  Hereby  the  Lord  withheld 
me  from  my  vain  projects  about  learning.  Now  I  was 
far  from  expecting,  as  sometime  I  had  done,  that  I  feared 
I  should  fall  short  of  what  was  absolutely  needful  to  my 
own  well-being,  3.  Whereas  I  was  educated  with  a 
view  to  the  ministry,  now  I  came  to  see  the  difficulty, 


116  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

and  repent  my  rash  intentions,  and  laid  down  a  resolution 
to  look  no  more  that  way,  -unless  the  Lord  satisfied  me 
fully  about  those  things  whereof  1  now  doubted.  I  could 
not,  without  horror,  think  of  speaking  to  others  what  I 
believed  not  myself.  4.  My  bondage  through  fear  of 
death  was  increased  and  grew  stronger.  5.  I  was  urged 
to  somewhat  more  of  closeness  in  the  performance  of 
duty,  though  I  was  often  urged  to  give  it  over  as  vain, 
yet  I  still  resolved  to  hold  on  there.  6.  I  was  still  more 
and  more  confirmed  in  the  necessity  of  further  evidence  for 
the  truth  of  religion,  than  I  either  had  attained  or  knew 
how  to  attain. 

All  this  while  1  was  under  sundry  inconveniences  that 
increased  my  trouble,  and  gave  advantage  to  my  corrup- 
tions. Most  of  the  converse  I  had  was  with  such  as  in- 
creased my  trouble.  I  was  a  companion  of  fools,  and  so 
nigh  to  destruction.  For,  '  he  that  walks  with  wise  men 
shall  be  wise,  but  a  companion  of  fools  shall  be  destroyed.' 
Again,  I  had  no  friend  to  whom  I  could,  with  freedom, 
and  any  prospect  of  satisfaction,  impart  my  mind.  '  Wo 
to  him  that  is  alone  when  he  falleth,  for  he  hath  not  an- 
other to  help  him  up.'  Endeavors  to  conceal  entirely  my 
concern  and  trouble,  broke  me.  '  When  I  kept  silence,  my 
bones  waxed  old.'  I  was  laid  aside  from  my  studies,  and 
had  no  diversion,  nor  could  I  follow  any ;  I  had  heart  for 
nothing ;  I  could  not  read,  excepting  that  sometimes  I 
read  the  Scriptures,  or  some  other  practical  book,  unless 
when  there  was  an  intermission  of  my  trouble  :  for  nearly 
a  year  and  a  half,  1  read  very  little,  and  this  slothful  pos- 
ture laid  me  open  to  temptations,  and  made  corruptions 
grow  stronger. 

Hereupon  my  corruption  took  vent  several  ways;  — 
in  vain  and  slothful  desires  ;  •  I  desired  and  had  not.'     In 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  117 

foolish  contrivances,  to  obtain  peace :  '  I  communed  with 
my  own  heart  upon  my  bed,  and  my  spirit  made  diligent 
search,'  but  without  a  due  eye  to  the  Lord.  I  spent  my 
time  in  foolish  complaints  that  dispirited  me ;  'I  com- 
plained, and  my  spirit  was  overwhelmed.'  1  was  some- 
times about  to  curse  the  day  of  my  birth,  wishing  that  I 
had  never  been  born,  or  that  I  had  died  as  soon  as  born. 
I  wished  often  that  I  had  been  in  other  circumstances, 
and  that  I  had  been  bred  to  the  plough,  or  some  such  em- 
ployment, and  that  I  might  have  in  the  desert  a  cottage, 
*  A  place  of  way-faring  men,'  where  I  might  give  myself 
to  continual  grief  My  spirit  sometimes  rose  in  rebelhon 
against  God.  •  I  thought  on  God  and  was  troubled.'  I 
said,  w^herefore  do  'I  cry  and  thou  dost  not  hear  me?' 
And  frequently  I  was  not  far  from  saying,  '  Wilt  thou  be 
altogether  to  me  as  a  liar  and  as  waters  that  fail  ?' 

After  1  had  thus  wearied  myself,  after  the  edge  and 
violence  of  the  temptations  above  mentioned,  were  by  the 
formerly  narrated  considerations,  blunted  and  somewhat 
broke,  rather  than  removed,  and  relieved  by  Satan's  de- 
parture for  a  season,  I  inclined  to  rest ;  and  Satan,  hereon 
finding  matters  prepared  for  an  assault,  made  fresh  at- 
tempts in  another,  and  disquieting  manner. 

The  devil  cannot  be  at  rest,  when  he  hath  no  mischief 
to  do  to  men.  The  devil  so  leaveth  none  but  he  will  be 
attempting  to  come  unto  them  again,  and  he  ordinarily 
succeedeth,  where  Christ  hath  not  prepossessed  the  soul ; 
all  other  reformation  proves  but  a  sweeping  and  a  gar- 
nishing, while  the  soul  is  empty  of  Christ ;  it  may  be 
swept  from  the  filth  of  flagitious  sins,  and  garnished  with 
the  paint  of  religion,  or  some  habits  of  moral  virtue,  but 
none  of  these  will  keep  out  the  devil.  Thus  I  found  it 
to  my  cost ;  for  Satan,  finding  my  soul,  after  all  my  sad 
•11 


118  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

tossings,  empty  of  Christ,  returned.  And  my  soul  being 
like  the  vineyard  of  the  sluggard,  by  sloth  defenceless, 
without  stone-wall,  he  easily  found  opportunity  to  sow 
tares,  and  while  I  slept,  to  cultivate  the  thorns  and  nettles 
which  naturally  grow  there.  It  was  no  hard  matter  to 
persuade  one,  wearied  as  I  was,  that  rest  was  good,  and 
that  there  was  a  lion  in  the  way.  And  having  thus  pos- 
session, and  quiet  abode  with  his  '  seven  other  spirits,'  my 
own  corruptions,  he  quickly  made  my  last  state  worse 
than  my  first.  My  enemies  grew  strong  and  lively  ;  my 
corruptions  began  vigorously  to  exert  themselves. 

Hereon  the  Lord,  minding  his  own  work,  brought  the 
ministry  of  the  word,  the  law  in  its  spiritual  meaning 
nearer.  And  then,  '  sin  revived,  and  I  died.'  I  found, 
more  discernibly  the  stirrings  of  corruptions.  Yea,  sin, 
taking  '  occasion  from  the  commandment,'  and  being  fret- 
ted by  the  light  let  into  my  soul  from  the  word,  '  wrought 
in  me  all  manner  of  concupiscence,'  Lusts  of  all  sorts,  self, 
sloth,  formality,  &g.  strove  to  maintain  their  own  place. 
I  was  plunged  into  deeper  guilt,  'my  iniquities  went  over 
my  head,'  my  challenges  were  sharpened,  and  I  found 
'  no  rest  in  my  bones,'  for  sins  that  I  had  done. 

I  set  apart  time  for  fasting  and  prayer  in  secret ;  and 
November  23,  1697,  on  a  time  set  apart  for  prayer,  I  drew 
up  a  short  account  of  my  treacherous  dealings  with  God, 
from  my  youth  up,  and  solemnly  bound  myself  to  God,  to 
walk  in  his  ways ;  and  when  my  own  heart  told  me,  that 
I  could  not  serve  the  Lord,  I  said,  '  Nay,  but  I  will  serve 
the  Lord  ! ' 

Though  hitherto,  I  failed  of  a  right  issue,  yet  I  was 
carried  a  great  length  in  compliance  with  convictions. 
I  kept  myself  from  open  pollutions,  I  was  careful  in  du- 
ties of  worship :  yea,  further,  I  was  much  in  retirement ;  I 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  Il9 

received  the  word  with  joy.  I  was  often  challenged  fo. 
secret  pride,  unbelief,  and  other  spiritual  evils,  and,  as  to 
the  knowledge  of  them,  was  considerably  enlightened. 
I  fasted,  prayed,  mourned  in  secret.  I  resolved  and 
strove  against  sin,  even  my  peculiar  sins  that  I  loved  best. 
Thus  I  had  with  others  a  name  to  live,  and  took  up  a 
form  of  religion.  Yet  for  all  this,  1  was  a  stranger  to  its 
power,  v^hich  the  following  evidences  sufficiently  mani- 
fest :  for  whatever  lengths  I  went,  yet,  I  was  a  stranger 
to  the  glorious  and  blessed  relief,  through  the  imputation 
of  the  righteousness  of  Christ;  not  that  I  had  not 
some  notions  of  this,  for  I  professed  to  embrace  it ;  but 
really  I  was  in  the  dark,  as  to  its  glorious  efficacy,  ten- 
dency and  design.  I  was  ignorant  of  the  '  righteousness 
of  God,'  all  the  while.  Still,  in  all  this,  the  eye  was  not 
single.  It  was  only  the  saving  of  myself  without  any 
eye  to  God's  glory,  that  I  designed.  It  was  still  by  some 
righteousness  of  my  own,  in  whole  or  part,  that  1  sought 
relief.  No  wonder  peace  was  unstable  that  stood  on  so 
weak  a  foundation.  Though  I  was  by  the  force  of  con- 
victions, brought  to  part  with  my  beloved  sins,  or  consent 
to  their  destruction,  yet,  it  was  neither  without  reluctance, 
nor  without  some  secret  reserve.  It  was  like  Pharaoh's 
consent  in  the  like  case,  when  his  servants  persuaded  him 
of  the  danger  of  his  persisting  in  his  sin.  Moses  and 
Aaron  were  brought  back  again  to  Pharaoh:  and  he 
said  unto  them,  '  Go  serve  the  Lord  your  God.  But  who 
are  they  that  shall  go?'  My  heart  was  utterly  averse 
from  spirituality.  Sometimes,  through  the  force  of  con- 
victions, I  was,  indeed,  brought  for  some  time  to  aim  at 
getting  my  mind  fixed  upon  heavenly  things,  and  kept 
on  the  thoughts  of  them  ;  but  my  heart  being  yet  carnal, 
I  grew  weary  of  this  bent,  and  of  this  forcible  religion, 


120  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON, 

and  it  was  intolerable  to  think  of  being  always  spiritual. 
'  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God,  for  it  is  not 
subject  to  his  law,  neither  indeed  can  be.' 

By  these  means,  I  was  at  last,  brought  to  an  extremity, 
for,  '  My  sins  were  set  in  order  before  me.'  They  were 
set  in  order  in  the  dreadfulness  of  their  nature  and  aggra- 
vations, and  all  shifts,  extenuations,  pleas,  and  defences 
were  rejected,  and  my  mouih  stopped  before  God.  All 
the  vain  ways  I  had  taken  for  my  relief,  baffled  my  ex- 
pectations, and  increased  my  pain ;  they  were  the  staff  of 
a  broken  reed,  they  pierced  my  arm  when  I  essayed  to 
lean  on  them,  and  I  was  ashamed,  and  even  confounded, 
that  I  had  hoped.  The  wrath  of  God  was  dropped  into 
my  soul,  and  the  poison  of  his  arrows  drank  up  my  spirits. 
I  was  as  yet,  unsanctified  as  to  ♦he  truths  of  religion,  and 
mme  enemies  often  told  me,  that  even  in  God  there  was 
no  succor  for  me.  Yea,  at  some  times,  Satan,  to  entangle 
me  more,  assaulted  the  truths  of  religion,  at  once,  and 
I  was  dreadfully  confounded,  when  the  Lord  commanded 
that  mine  should  be  round  about  me.  And  *  they  com- 
passed me  about  like  bees.'  All  the  means  which  I  took 
to  subdue  down  my  corruptions,  proved  of  no  avail,  for 
sin  revived  and  I  died ;  yea,  taking  occasion  by  the  com- 
mandment, it  slew  me. 

By  the  extremity  of  this  anguish,  I  was  for  some  time 
about  the  close  of  1697,  and  beginning  of  1698,  dread- 
fully cast  down.  I  was  weary  of  my  life.  Often  did  I 
use  Job's  words:  'I  loathe  it,  I  would  not  live  always.' 
And  yet,  I  was  afraid  to  die;  I  had  no  rest.  At  night  I 
wished  for  day,  and  in  the  day  I  wished  for  night.  I 
said,  '  my  couch  shall  comfort  me.'  But  then  darkness 
was  as  the  shadow  of  death.  When  I  was  in  this  case, 
*  I  was  often  at  the  brink  of  despair.'     '  He  filled  me  with 


THOMAS    HALLIBURtOX.  121 

bitterness :  he  made  rae  drunk  with  wormwood.'  I  was 
made  to  fear  that  the  Lord  would  make  me  a  terror 
to  myself,  and  all  round  about;  and  that  he  would 
make  some  dreadful  discovery  of  my  wickedness, 
that  would  make  me  a  reproach  to  reUgion,  and  give 
the  enemies  advantage,  which  led  me  to  pray,  '  De- 
liver me  from  all  my  transgressions,  make  me  not  the  re- 
proach  of  the  foolish.'  I  was  made  to  wonder  that  I  was 
not  already  cut  off.     And  indeed  I  was  sometime  reviving, 

•  It  is  of  the  Lord's  mercies  that  we  are  not  consumed,  be- 
cause his  compassions  fail  not.'  This  I  recall  to  my 
mind,  '  therefore  have  I  hope.'  But  this  hope  was  easily 
clouded :  it  amounted  to  no  more  than  this,  Who  can  tell 
but  he  may  be  gracious  ?  And  to  this,  my  fearful  heart 
suggested  the  greatness  of  my  sins  as  what  were  above 
the  reach  of  pardoning  mercy.  And  Satan  daily  urged 
me  to  give  over,  and  take  some  desperate  course,  to  say, 

*  There  is  no  hope.'  Thus  weary  of  my  disease,  and 
weary  of  the  vain  courses  I  had  taken  for  relief,  and  un- 
certain what  course  to  take,  I  took  counsel  in  my  soul 
ha\nng  sorrow  in  my  heart  daily. 

If  this  extremity  had  lasted  much  longer,  my  soul  had 
sunk  under  the  weight  of  it ;  and  even  while  I  was  in 
this  case,  had  rained  me,  if  the  Lord  had  not  timely  sup- 
ported me  in  the  greatest  extremity,  and,  as  it  were,  held 
me  by  the  hand.  When  I  had  destroyed  myself,  he  let 
me  see  help  in  him. 

I  cannot  be  very  positive  about  the  day  or  hour  .of  this 
deliverance,  nor  can  I  answer  many  other  questions  about 
the  manner  of  it.  But  this  is  of  no  consequence  if  the 
work  is  in  substance  sound.  '  For  the  wind  bloweth 
where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but 
thou  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  and  whither  it  goeth  ] 


122  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

30  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit.'  Many  things 
about  the  way  and  manner  we  may  be  ignorant  of,  while 
we  are  sufficiently  sure  of  the  effects.  As  to  these  thinga 
I  must  say  with  the  blind  man,  '  I  know  not;  one  thing 
1  know,  that  Whereas  I  was  bhnd,  now  I  see.' 

However,  it  was  towards  the  close  of  January,  or  the 
beginning  of  February  1698,  that  this  seasonable  relief 
came ;  and,  so  far  as  I  can  remember,  I  was  at  secret 
prayer,  in  very  great  extremity,  not  far  from  despair,  when 
the  Lord  seasonably  interposed  and  gave  this  merciful 
turn  to  affairs ;  •  When  I  said  my  foot  slippeth,  thy  mercy 
held  me  up.'  And  when  there  was  nonelo  save,  then  his 
own  arm  brought  salvation.  '  God,  who  commanded  the 
light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,'  shined  into  my  mind,  '  to 
give  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  his  glory  in  the  face  of 
Jesus  Christ.' 

That  which  yielded  me  this  relief,  was  a  discovery  of 
the  Lord,  as  manifested  in  the  word.  He  said  to  me, 
'  Thou  hast  destroyed  thyself,  but  in  me  is  thy  help.' 
Now,  the  Lord  discovered,  in  the  manner  afterwards  to 
be  mentioned,  several  things  which  I  shall  here  take  no- 
tice of:  He  let  me  see  that  there  are  forgivenesses  with 
him ;  that  with  him  there  is  mercy  and  plenteous  redemp- 
tion. He  brought  me  from  Sinai,  and  its  thunderings,  to 
'  Mount  Zion,  and  to  the  Mediator  of  the  new  covenant, 
and  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that  cleanseth  from  all 
sin,  and  speaks  better  things  than  the  blood  of  Abel.' 
He  revealed  Christ  in  his  glory.  I  now,  with  wonder, 
•  beheld  his  glory,  as  the  glory  of  the  only  begotten  of  the 
Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth.'  And  I  was  hereon  made 
to  say,  •  Thou  art  fairer  than  the  sons  of  men.'  He  let 
me  see  that  He  who  had  before  rejected  all  that  I  could 
offer,  was  well  pleased  in  the  Beloved.'     I  was  further 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  123 

fully  satisfied,  that,  not  only  there  was  forgiveness  of  sins, 
and  justification  by  free  grace,  '  through  the  redennption 
that  is  in  Christ  Jesus:  whom  God  hath  set  forth  to  be 
a  propitiation,  through  faith  in  his  blood,  to  declare  his 
righteousness,  for  the  remission  of  sins  that  are  past, 
through  the  forbearance  of  God,'  but,  moreover,  I  saw 
with  wonder  and  delight,  in  some  measure,  how  God,  by 
this  means,  might  be  just  in  justifying  even  the  ungodly 
who  believe  in  Jesus.  How  was  I  ravished  with  delight 
when  made  to  see,  that  the  God  in  whom  a  little  before,  I 
thought  there  was  no  help  for  me ;  notwithstanding  his 
spotless  purity,  his  deep  hatred  of  sin,  his  inflexible  jus- 
tice and  righteousness,  and  his  unfailing  faithfulness, 
pledged  in  the  threatenings  of  the  law,  might  not  only 
pardon,  but,  without  prejudice  to  his  justice  or  other  attri- 
butes, be  just  in  justifying  even  the  ungodly  !  The  rec- 
onciliation of  those  seemingly  inconsistent  attributes  with 
one  another,  and  the  sinnei-'s  salvation,  quite  surprised 
and  astonished  me.  The  Lord  further  opened  the  gospel 
call  to  me,  and  let  me  see,  that  to  me  even  to  me,  was 
'  the  word  of  this  salvation  sent.'  All  this  was  offered 
to  me,  and  I  was  invited  secretly  to  come,  and  '  take  of 
the  water  of  life  freely,'  and  to  come  in  my  distress  unto 
this  blessed  rest.  '  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  1  will  give  you  rest.'  He,  to  my 
great  satisfaction,  gave  me  a  pleasant  discovery  of  his  de- 
sign in  the  whole,  that  it  was  that  no  flesh  might  glory 
in  his  sight ;  but  that  he  who  glories,  should  have  occca- 
sion  only  to  glory  in  the  Lord,  that  he  might  manifest 
the  riches  of  his  grace,  and  be  exalted  in  showing  mercy; 
and  that  we,  in  the  end,  might  be  saved  *  to  the  praise  of 
the  glory  of  his  grace,  who  made  us  accepted  in  the  Be- 
loved.'     The  Lord  revealed  to  my  soul  that  full  and  suit- 


124  THOMAS    HALLIBURTON. 

able  provision  made  in  this  way,  against  the  power  of  sin, 
that,  as  there  is  righteousness  in  him,  so  there  is  strength, 
even  everlasting  strength,  in  the  Lord  Jehovah,  to  secure 
against  all  enemies ;  aivl  that  in  him  there  is  sweet  pro- 
vision made  against  the  guilt  of  sins,  through  the  power 
of  temptation,  his  people  may  be  entangled  in.  '  These 
things  write  I  unto  you,  that  ye  sin  not.  But  if  any  man 
sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ, 
the  righteous ;  and  he  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins  ;  and 
not  for  ours  only,  but  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world.' 
When  this  strange  discovery  was  made  of  a  relief,  where- 
in full  provisions  were  made  for  all  the  concerns  of  God's 
glory,  and  my  salvation  in  subordination  thereto,  my  soul 
was,  by  a  glorious  and  sweet  power,  carried  out  to  rest  in 
it,  as  worthy  of  God  and  every  way  suitable  and  satisfy- 
ing in  my  case.  '  They  that  know  his  name,  will  put 
their  trust  in  him.'  " 

It  is  with  much  reluctance,  that  we  pass  over  entirely, 
for  want  of  room,  the  subsequent  experience  of  this  emi- 
nent servant  of  Christ.  Hardly  any  thing  of  the  kind,  so 
deep,  so  scriptural,  so  discriminating,  has  ever  fallen  un- 
der our  observation.  Very  few  Christians,  certainly,  have 
ever  studied  the  anatomy  of  the  heart  with  so  much  suc- 
cess, or  succeeded  so  well  in  laying  open  its  secret  work- 
ings, under  the  awakening,  renewing  and  sanctifying  in- 
fluence of  the  Spirit.  But  the  leading  object  of  this  vol- 
ume is  to  delineate  the  prominent  features  of  genuine 
conviction  and  conversion,  which,  as  they  appear  in  the 
case  of  Halliburton,  has  been  done  in  the  preceding  pages, 
we  shall  hasten  to  a  close. 

He  was  licensed  to  preach  in  June,  1699,  and  ordained 
at  Ceres,  in  May,  1700,  where  he  continued  in  the  faithful 


THOMAS    HALLIBURTON.  125 

discharge  of  the  duties  of  the  ministry,  till  1710,  when  he 
left  his  charge,  and  was  installed  Professor  of  Divinity, 
in  the  University  of  St.  Andrews.  Much  was  expected 
from  his  talents,  learning  and  p\eiy,  in  that  important  of- 
fice; but  his  health  soon  failed,  and  he  departed  to  re- 
ceive the  rewards  of  a  good  and  faithful  servant,  (as  it  is 
confidently  believed,)  on  the  morning  of  Sept.  22d,  17i2, 
in  the  38th  year  of  his  age. 

12 


CHAPTER    III. 
REV.    GEORGE    TROSSE. 

THE    CHANGE,    OR    THE    DISSOLUTE    VAGABOND    RENEWED. 

The  subject  of  the  following  narrative  was  an  extra- 
ordinary instance  of  the  sovereignty  and  power  of  divine 
grace.  Though  respectably  descended,  yet  the  earlier 
part  of  his  life  was  disgraced  by  sins  of  great  enormity  ; 
and,  but  for  the  interposing  hand  of  God,  he  would  have 
precipitated  himself  early  into  the  gulf  of  perdition.  He 
was  rescued  from  ruin  and  made  the  partaker  of  divine 
mercy.  He  became  a  preacher  of  the  faith  to  which  he 
had  been  inveterately  opposed ;  and  his  life  furnishes  a 
striking  instance   of "  grace  abounding  to  the  chief  of 


His  early  character  and  history. 

He  was  born  in  Exeter,  England,  Oct.  25,  1631.  His 
friends,  though  respectable  and  upright,  were  decided 
enemies  to  the  Puritans,  and,  it  is  feared,  to  serious  and 
personal  religion.  They  trained  up  their  son  to  entertain 
some  respect  for  the  word,  the  day,  and  the  house  of  God, 


128  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

but  beyond  this,  they  do  not  appear  to  have  advanced  in 
imparting  religious  instruction. 

He  was  placed  at  an  early  age  in  the  gramiTJar  school 
of  his  native  city.  He  made  rapid  proficiency  in  learn- 
ing, and  exceeded  all  his  companions  in  literary  attain- 
ments. He  left  school  in  his  fifteenth  year  with  the 
intention  of  entering  on  the  more  active  duties  of  life. 
His  conduct  during  his  pupilage,  was  respectful,  courte- 
ous, and  moral ;  hut  he  was  totally  unacquainted  with 
the  nature  of  real  religion;  he  lived  in  the  neglect  of 
secret  prayer,  and  cherished  a  decided  antipathy  against 
all,  who  were  denominated  Puritans.  Nothing  appears 
to  have  afforded  him  greater  amusement  than  to  sing  the 
ribald  songs  that  were  written  against  them. 

His  father  died  while  he  was  young;  and  desirous 
that  his  son  should  follow  his  profession,  he  bequeathed  to 
him  his  valuable  legal  lihvary.  To  the  law,  however, 
George  had  no  inclination.  He  was  desirous  of  being  a 
merchant;  and  with  this  desire,  his  mother,  who  was 
the  daughter  of  a  merchant  who  had  amassed  great 
wealth  in  mercantile  pursuits,  heartily  concurred.  Feel- 
ing no  concern  for  the  spiritual  and  immortal  welfare  of 
her  child,  she  was  only  anxions  that  he  might  engage  in 
that  profession  which  would  the  most  certainly  and 
readily  procure  a  fortune.  On  leaving  school,  therefore, 
it  was  determjned  that  he  should  go  to  France  to  acquire 
the  language,  and  to  gain  a  more  extensive  acquaintance 
with  the  world,  as  preparatory  to  his  entering  on  a  mer- 
cantile life.  He  observes,  "  Hence  I.  may  date  the  begin- 
ning and  occasion  of  my  after  sins  and  calamities ;  for 
going  abroad  into  a  tempting  world,  with  a  blind  mind, 
a  foolish  fancy,  and  a  graceless  heart,  without  anj^  con- 
siderable experience  of  human  affairs,  I  was  easily  led 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  129 

into  great  sins,  and  dangerous  snares,  and  so  laid  myself 
open  to  very  great  evils  of  several  kinds,  as  you  will  more 
fully  understand  by  what  follows ;  which  I  the  rather 
choose  to  relate,  that  I  may  warn  others  from  venturing 
upon  the  like  temptations,  and  to  caution  parents  against 
indulging  their  children's  unreasonable  inclinations." 

At  the  early  age  of  fifteen,  destitute  of  religious  princi- 
ple, and  without  parental  control,  he  left  England,  and 
sailed  for  Morlaix  m  France.  In  that  towm  he  resided 
for  a  time,  and  prosecuted  his  studies.  He  then  removed 
to  Pontive,  and  lodged  with  a  French  Protestant  minis- 
ter, under  whose  tuition,  and  by  his  own  application,  he 
became  a  thorough  proficient  in  the  language.  But 
placed  in  a  country  where  superstition  and  impiety  gener- 
ally prevailed,  where  morality  was  disregarded,  and  the 
Sabbath  openly  profaned:  the  evil  propensities  of  his 
nature  had  full  and  unrestrained  exercise.  He  ran  after 
every  kind  of  folly,  and  addicted  himself  to  every  species 
of  vice ;  and,  though  occasionally  experiencing  remorse 
of  conscience,  and  forming  resolutions  of  amendment; 
he  still  persisted  in  his  vicious  course  during  the  whole 
of  his  residence  in  that  country.  While  at  Pontive,  he 
was  severely  afflicted  with  the  ague,  which  lasted  about 
nine  weeks,  and  brought  him  to  the  borders  of  the  grave. 
"And  yet,"  he  writes  in  a  review  of  his  life,  "notwith- 
standing this  rebuke  of  Providence,  I  never  thought 
seriously  of  God,  sin,  or  death ;  judgment,  heaven,  or 
hell ;  but  behaved  myself  like  a  brute  under  all." 

It  pleased  God  to  remove  this  afHiction,  but  he  did  not 
profit  by  it.  He  speedily  resumed  his  old  courses,  and 
with  greater  avidity,  sought  after  his  old  vices.  He  be- 
came proud,  passionate,  and  revengeful ;  and  on  one  oc- 
casion, in  a  fit  of  rage  through  some  imaginary  provoca- 
*12 


130  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

tion,  he  attempted  to  stab  one  of  his  companions  in  study 
and  in  vice, 

A  melancholy  and  fatal  accident  befel  the  minister 
with  whom  he  resided.  He  had  been  dangerously  ill, 
but  on  recovering,  went  out  of  his  apartment  one  Lord's 
day  to  examine  some  repairs  that  were  going  on  in  a  remote 
part  of  the  house,  when  unexpectedly,  a  part  of  the  building 
fell  upon  him.  i  e  was  precipitated  to  the  ground,  and 
was  taken  up  nearly  lifeless.  He  lingered  a  few  moments 
after  being  extricated  from  the  ruins,  and  then  expired. 
This  event  produced  a  considerable  sensation  in  the  town, 
and  was  considered  bv  some  as  a  direct  judgment  against 
M.  Rasmet  for  his  Sabbath  profanation,  and  for  his 
heretical  notions  as  a  Protestant.  On  yonng  Trosse's 
mind,  the  melancholy  event  appears  to  have  produced  no 
salutary  impression.  He  became  more  riotous  than  ever, 
and  conducted  himself  with  most  unbecoming  levity 
and  insolence  towards  the  afflicted  widow  and  her 
family. 

He  short Ij'"  afterwards  left  Pontive,  and  returned  to 
Morlaix.  There  he  continued  about  nine  months  longer, 
pursuing,  with  intense  and  increasing  etigerness,  his 
career  of  thoughtlessness,  extravagance,  and  folly.  He 
observes,  "Many  times  I  drank  to  excess ;  but  when  I 
came  again  to  myself,  and  reflected  soberly  upon  what"! 
had  done,  I  was  greatly  ashamed,  and  di?pl(ased  with 
myself;  looking  upon  it  as  an  unreasonable  and  disgrace- 
ful sin,  v/hich  exposed  me  to  the  censure  and  derision  of 
men ;  but  did  not  consider  that  it  laid  me  open  to  the 
wrath  of  God.  After  I  had  thus  exposed  mj'self  by  such 
miscarriages,  T  took  up  resolutions,  and  made  vows,  to 
leave  them  for  the  future.  But  all  these  having  been  made 
without  any  sense  of  God  at  all,  by  the  direction,  in  the 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  131 

Strength,  and  for  the  ends  of  carnal  self,  they  were  soon 
forgotten  and  contradicted." 

It  is  an  affecting  consideration,  that  a  youth  of  such 
respectability,  talents,  and  property,  should  thus  debase 
his  character,  and  press  onwards  in  the  way  to  destruc- 
tion ;  but  when  his  age,  his  utter  destitution  of  religion, 
his  abundant  resources,  his  entire  freedom  from  parental 
restraint,  or  even  the  control  of  guardians  or  friends,  are 
taken  into  account,  his  conduct  will  occasion  no  surprise 
to  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  deceitfulness  of 
their  own  hearts.  Justly  does  Mr.  Trosse  remark  in  his 
reflections,  "  that  where  there  is  much  money,  little  wit, 
no  religion,  a  vicious  mind,  and  no  reprover,  a  person  is 
exposed  to  tremendous  evils,  and  extravagant  follies." 
And  from  his  own  experience,  he  adds,  "  I  wish  all  par- 
ents, as  they  love  the  souls  of  their  children,  and  value 
their  own  comfort,  would  not  suffer  their  children  to  go 
beyond  the  sea  till  they  have  some  ground  to  believe 
that  the  root  of  grace  is  in  them,  and  so  God  engaged 
with  them  for  their  preservation  ;  or  else,  that  they  would 
comimit  them  to  some  strictly  holy  or  religious  person 
there,  who  would  faithfully  discharge  his  duty  to  their 
souls." 

The  time  for  young  Trosse's  return  at  length  arrived  : 
and,  after  indulging  himself  in  his  favorite  vice  of  drunk- 
enness, he  embarked,  and  in  due  time,  reached  his  native 
land.  His  career  of  folly  had  involved  him  in  expenses 
far  exceeding  the  bounds  of  what  even  he  considered  pru- 
dence; and  on  rendering  an  account  to  his  mother,  as  a 
cover  to  his  prodigality,  he  invented  and  persisted  in  tell- 
ing most  notorious  falsehoods.  These  falsehoods  could 
not  be  disproved,  and  thus  he  succeeded  in  deceiving  his 
mother,  but  it  was  at  the  sacrifice  of  his  conscience,  and 
the  expense  of  his  happiness. 


132  OiEORGE    TROSSE. 

He  was  now  seventeen  years  of  age,  residing  with  his 
only  and  affectionate  parent,  without  employment,  and 
pursuing  only  folly  and  vice.  The  habits  he  had  ac- 
quired on  the  continent,  he  could  not  relinquish  at  home. 
He  had  become  hardened  in  sm,  "  accustomed  to  do  evil," 
lie  would  not  "  learn  to  do  well."  At  length  he  decided 
on  entering  the  merchants'  service,  and  it  was  resolved, 
accordingl3%  by  his  mother  and  friends,  that  he  should  be 
apprenticed  to  some  "  merchant  beyond  the  seas,"  as  the 
most  successful  method  of  accomplishing  their  united 
wishes.  He  went  to  London  to  visit  a  relation,  bj'^  whom 
he  was  introduced  to  a  Portuguese  merchant,  whose  in- 
terest was  solicited  in  order  to  procure  a  situation  for  him 
in  Portugal.  In  this  merchant's  family  he  resided  pre- 
viously to  his  leaving  England.  His  stay  was  protracted 
in  London  for  three  months.  During  this  period  he  was 
absorbed  in  indolence  or  intoxication,  gambling  or  wan- 
tonness. And  his  hatred  against  pure  and  undefiled 
religion  appeared  to  increase  with  his  wickedness.  The 
time  for  his  departure  however  arrived  :  and  after  indulg- 
ing in  an  excess  of  sinful  pleasures,  he  embarked  at 
Gravesend,  and  sailed  to  Oporto.  He  reached  the  "  de- 
sired haven,"  in  perfect  safety,  and  took  up  his  residence 
with  an  English  merchant  in  that  port.  Here  the  inter- 
vals of  business  were  occupied  with  the  vices  of  the  coun- 
try. His  Sabbaths  were  profaned,  being  spent  in  the  tav- 
erns, at  the  billiard-tables,  or  in  water  excursions.  The 
Bible  and  religious  books  were  neglected  and  despised  ; 
in  fact,  few  such  books  could  be  introduced  into  Portugal. 
When  a  ship  arrived  at  port  from  a  Protestant  country, 
the  inquisitors  went  on  board,  and  seized  all  Bibles,  all 
devotional  and  practical  books,  placed  and  sealed  them 
up  in  bags,   and  carried  them  away  to  their  convents, 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  166 

There  they  were  detained  till  the  ship  was  ready  to  sail, 
when  the}^  were  again  delivered  to  the  captain.  Indeed, 
religious  toleration  was  not  allowed  in  any  shape  what- 
ever to  foreigners.  Cromwell,  during  the  protectorate, 
however,  interposed  his  authority,  and  compelled  the 
Portuguese  to  allow  liberty  of  conscience,  a,nd  freedom  of 
worship  to  British  subjects. 

This  restraint  on  their  religious  liberty,  does  not  appear 
to  have  greatly  aifected  the  merchants  in  general.  Busi- 
ness and  pleasure  were  the  sole  objects  of  their  pursuits ; 
the  mammon  of  v/ealth  or  folly  was  the  idol  which  they 
worshipped.  Young  Trosse  entered  fully  into  the  spirit 
of  folly  and  sin  which  prevailed  in  the  town.  Occasion- 
ally he  strolled  into  the  Catholic  chapels,  where, to  avoid 
suspicion,  he  usually  bowed  his  knees  to  their  images, 
and  prentended  to  be  engaged  in  their  worship.  With 
this  merchant  he  continued  more  than  two  years ;  when, 
owing  to  a  dispute  between  his  friends  in  London,  and 
his  master,  he  was  obliged  to  quit  his  service,  and  com- 
pelled even  to  pay  for  his  expenses  during  'the  time  he 
had  lived  in  his  house.  He  left  Oporto  and  proceeded  in 
company  with  others  to  Lisbon,  where  he  continued  three 
months.  Here  his  moral  principles  were  repeatedly  put 
to  the  test,  and  he  was  found  wanting.  He  yielded  to 
the  force  of  every  inclination,  and  lived  in  the  indulgence 
of  his  unbridled  passions.  His  Protestanism  was  severely 
tried  by  a  fascinating  temptation  to  embrace  popery,  and 
to  enter  the  convent  of  Jesuits  in  that  city  ;  but  against 
this  temptation,  he  was  proof  The  religion  of  popery  he 
detested ;  while  all  the  carnal  indulgences  allowed  and 
practiced  under  that  sj'stem  he  eagerly  embraced  and 
pursued. 

The  ship  in  which  he  was  to  be  conveyed  to  England, 


134  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

was  now  ready  to  sail.     He  embarked,  and  as  he  says, 
"  after  two  years  and  three  quarters  abode  in  Portugal, 
living  in  atheism,  ignorance,  profancness,  and  debauch- 
ery, he  left  it  and  sailed  for  his  native  country."     In  his 
reflections,  written  after  his  conversion,  he  says,  "  For 
rnany  years  since,  every  day  upon  my  knees,  have  I  been 
blessing  and  giving  thanks  to  a  wise  and  gracious  God 
for  bringing  me  from  thence,  and  not  permitting  me  to 
live  any  longer  there.     I  might,  had  I  attained  my  own 
and  friends'   design,   have  spent  manj^   more  there,  and 
might  have  gotten  a  great  deal  of  treasure,  and  at  length 
miffht  have  returned   with  abundance  of  wealth  and  a 
flourishing  estate ;  but  then,  I  should  have  lived  without 
God,  and  against  him,  and  all  that  time  have  continually 
increased  my  guilt  and  my  misery,  and  brought  home 
infinitely  more  curses  on  my  person,  than  of  coin  to  en- 
rich me.     I  should  in  that  case  have  returned  with  a 
heart  full  of  pride  and  lust,  and  fuel  to  have  fed  them  all 
my  days.     But  blessed  be  God  that  1  tarried  not  there  a 
day  longer  than     did.     1  would  not  now  live  there  one 
day,  as  I  then  lived  months  and  3'ears,  for  all  the  riches 
of  Portugal." 

The  passage  to  England,  was  storm.y  and  dangerous; 
and  instead  of  proceeding  to  London,  the  place  of  her 
destination,  the  vessel  was  obliged  to  put  in  at  Plymouth. 
He  observes,  "  Thus  again  the  providence  of  God 
brought  me  safely  to  my  own  country ;  from  a  foreign 
nation  into  Immanuel's  land ;  from  anti-christian  territo- 
ries, to  a  land  where  the  gospel  is  printed  in  our  own  lan- 
guage, and  orthodoxly  preached ;  where  God  alone  is  the 
object  of  worship,  and  the  Lord  Christ  applied  to  as  the 
only  Mediator,  and  where  we  are  plainly  directed  in  the 
way  to  heaveq," 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  135 

When  he  landed,  he  proceeded  to  his  old  habits  of 
inebriety.  The  following-  day  was  the  Sabbath  He 
attended  public  worship  which  he  had  neglected  for  three 
years ;  but  he  felt  no  interest  in  the  service,  nor  offered 
thanksgiving  for  his  preservation,  during  his  absence  or 
his  voj'age.  The  remainder  of  the  day  he  profaned,  and 
closed  it  with  intemperance.  On  the  following  morning 
he  set  out  on  horseback  for  Exeter,  but  being  in  a  state 
of  complete  intoxication,  he  could  not  long  retain  his  seat. 
He  fell  from  his  horse,  and  w^as  taken  up  as  dead,  but  he 
received  no  injury,  and  arrived  safely  at  his  mothei-'s 
residence,  after  three  years'  absence. 

The  Change. 

The  next  six  years  of  his  life  were  spent  at  home  in 
ease  and  leisure.  He  followed  no  avocation,  and  directed 
his  mind  to  no  pursuits  but  those  of  folly  and  sin.  Pro- 
fanity, contempt  of  God,  and  his  holy  word,  together  with 
offences  of  flagrant  enormit}^,  marked  his  conduct  through- 
out this  period.  His  hatred  to  religion  was  manifest. 
Prayer  was  neglected  and  despised.  The  Bible  was 
never  consulted,  except  to  pervert  its  meaning  to  some 
unhaliow^ed  purpose.  His  hard  drinking  brought  on  him 
dangerous  maladies,  from  which  he  was  mercifully  re- 
stored ;  but  the  providence  of  God  was  never  acknowl- 
edged, nor  the  divine  forbearance  adored.  One  remarka- 
ble instance  of  the  divine  goodness,  and  his  ingratitude, 
may  be  noticed.  "  Once  when  I  had  greatl}^  besotted 
myself  by  an  excess  of  drinking,  I  rode  into  the  C(iuntry, 
and  fell  from  my  horse,  near  the  gallows,  about  two  miles 
from  our  city  ;  which  yet  I  did  not  at  all  remember,  but  was 
reminded  of  it  by  one  who  saw  me  lie  there  like  a  swine. 


136  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

Yet  I  considered  not  the  danger  of  this  fall,  nor  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  place,  although  my  mother  had  some 
time  before,  related  a  story  to  me,  of  a  sword  bearer  of  the 
city  of  Exeter,  who,  riding  that  way  with  a  design  to 
poison  his  wife,  by  Providence  was  flung  off  his  horse 
just  by  the  gallows,  which  the  obstinate  wretch  refusing 
to  consider,  rode  on,  and  executed  his  design.  Upon  the 
discovery  of  this  barbarous  deed,  he  was  prosecuted,  and 
at  length  executed,  upon  that  very  gallows,  where  he 
owned  that  Providence  punished  his  wilful  obstinacy  in  not 
having  taken  the  warning,  and  desisted  fiom  his  bloody 
purpose." 

The  Sabbath  was  usually  spent  in  the  total  neglect  of 
divine  worship,  and  in  the  practice  of  his  vices.  If  ever 
he  attended  divine  service,  he  owns  that  he  profaned  it. 
"  I  considered  not  God  as  the  solemn  object  of  devotions, 
and  had  no  due  regard  to  the  manner  in  which  they 
ought  to  have  been  performed ;  and  sometimes,  in  the 
very  height  of  my  drunkenness  and  lust,  I  engaged  in 
them."  His  dissipation  involved  him  in  pecuniary  em- 
barrassments, so  that  he  was  obliged  to  sell  his  interest  in 
a  house  left  him  b}-  his  father,  in  order  to  pay  his  "debts 
of  honor,"  as  they  are  falsely  called,  and  to  cover  his  ex- 
travagant expenses. 

He  confesses  that  he  had,  in  fact,  sinned  against  the 
entire  moral  law,  and  had  so  hardened  himself  in  sin,  that 
he  was  disposed  to  have  continued  in  this  condition  and 
course  to  the  end  of  his  days.  'Satan's  cursed  work,' 
says  he  '  1  loved  and  delighted  in.  He  was  my  master, 
as  a  tempter  to  sin,  and  a  promoter  of  it.  And  no  doubt 
experienced  Christians  have  concluded,  that  if  ever  God 
ehould  bring  home  such  a  sinner  to  himself,  it  would  be 
by  dreadful  horrors  and  terrors,  by  the  most  stinging  re- 


GEORGE   TROSSE.  137 

morse  and  the  most  piercing  anguish ;  which,  at  last,  fell 

out  accordingly.' 

He  was  now  approaching  a  crisis  in  his  history.  He 
found  by  wofal  experience,  though  he  lamented  it  not, 
that  the  way  of  transgressors  is  hard.  His  health  was 
impaired  by  dissipation,  and  his  mental  faculties  began  to 
lose  their  tone  and  vigor,  through  the  excessive  quantity 
of  stimulating  liquors  introduced  into  his  system.  It 
needed  only  some  particularly  exciting  circumstances  to 
destroy  the  balance  of  his  mental  powers,  and  to  reduce 
him  to  a  state  of  insanity.  And  the  probability  of  such 
a  catastrophe  was  not  the  less  unlikely,  insomuch  as  he 
was  occasionally  the  subject  of  vivid  and  alarming  appre- 
hensions of  futurity,  and  of  goading  compunctions  of  con- 
science. 

An  event  now  took  place,  which  was  a  source  of  inex- 
pressible misery,  as  it  was  the  occasion  of  throwing  him 
into  a  state  of  deplorable,  and,  for  some  time,  incurable 
madness. 

He  rode  with  his  mother  one  morning,  to  a  retired  vil- 
lage in  a  valley,  about  twelve  miles  from  Exeter.  -The 
next  morning,  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  his  mother,  he 
returned  home,  and  became  bondsman  for  a  person  who 
had  been  a  major  in  the  king's  army,  and  was  considered 
to  be  disaffected  to  the  government  of  the  commonwealth. 
All  such  persons  were  ordered  by  the  Protector  to  be  ar- 
rested, and  were  allowed  their  liberty  only  upon  good  se- 
curity. Rash,  headstrong,  and  violent  in  his  political 
feelings,  and  inveterate  in  his  hatred  against  the  existing 
crovernment,  he,  contrary  to  the  solicitations  of  his  friends, 
and  even  of  the  sheriff,  proffered  bail  for  the  major,  and 
was  accepted.  He  spent  the  day  in  carousing,  and,  in  a 
state  far  from  sober,  he  mounted  his  horse  to  return  home. 
13 


138'  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

In  proceeding,  he  fell  from  his  horse,  but,  by  some  means 
or  other,  he  regained  his  seat,  and  at  length,  reached  his 
mother's  abode.  On  dismounting,  he  reeled  into  the 
kitchen,  asked  his  mothers'  blessing,  and  being  unable  to 
stand,  from  the  effects  of  drinking,  was  carried  to  bed. 
The  servant  asked  him  if  he  was  not  afraid  to  be  alone ; 
he  replied, '  I  do  not  fear  all  the  devils  in  hell,  and  can  go 
and  lie  anywhere,  at  any  time.'  He  slept  soundly  all 
night ;  but  in  the  morning,  when  he  began  to  reflect  on 
his  folly  in  becoming  surety  for  the  major,  he  became 
greatly  distressed  and  vexed.  This  mortification,  togeth- 
er with  the  effects  of  the  liquor,  and  his  fall  on  the  pre- 
ceding day,  threw  him  into  a  state  of  confusion  and  de- 
lirium, which  at  length  terminated  in  total  derangement. 

His  thoughts,  now  uncontrolled  by  reason,  were  vari- 
ous and  distressing,  and,  as  not  unfrequently  happens,  in 
cases  of  insanity,  they  flowed  in  one  particular  direction. 
Religion  was  the  constant,  the  only  subject  of  his  deliri- 
ous musings.  His  imaginar}^  visions,  his  awful  apprehen- 
sions, his  horrible  blasphemies,  and  his  dreadful  tempta- 
tions, are  recorded  with  distressing  minuteness  in  the  ac- 
count which  he  wrote  of  himself,  and  which  it  would  be 
worse  than  useless  to  detail. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  adversary  of  souls 
availed  himself  of  this  opportunity  to  tempt  and  torment 
his  wretched  vassal.  Crafty  and  powerful,  he  adapts  his 
suggestions  and  temptations  to  the  circumstances  of  indi- 
viduals, and  presents  them  at  seasons  when  they  are  most 
likely  to  take  effect.  The  apostolic  exhortation  to  sobrie- 
ty and  vigilance,  is  founded  on  the  known  subtlety  and 
malice  of  the  adversary,  '  who  goeth  about  like  a  roaring 
lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour.'  This  was  a  dread- 
ful affliction,  and  yet  in  his  abberrations,    Mr    Trosse 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  139 

would  allow  no  means  to  be  used  for  his  recovery.  His 
friends,  hopeless  of  all  relie  by  keeping  him  at  home,  re- 
solved on  sending  him  to  an  establishment  at  Glastonbury, 
devoted  to  the  reception  and  cure  of  such  unfortunate  pa- 
tients. After  desperate  resistance,  he  was  at  length  se- 
cured, and  convej^ed  to  his  new  habitation.  Here  he  con- 
tinued in  the  same  state  of  '  horror,  delusion,  and  blasphe- 
my,' and  ungovernable  madness,  for  some  months.  His 
malady  at  last  yielded  to  the  persevering  treatment  of  his 
attendants,  and  he  became  tranquil  and  composed.  The 
matron  of  the  establishment  was  a  pious  lady;  she  fre- 
quently conversed  with  him  on  serious  subjects,  and  was 
the  means,  under  the  Divine  blessing,  of  producing  a 
beneficial  impression  on  his  mind.  He  now  directed  his 
attention  to  the  Scriptures,  and  religious  works,  and  be- 
came very  correct  and  serious  in  his  general  deportment. 
He  was  duly  restored  to  his  friends ;  but  scarcely  had 
he  become  settled  at  home,  before  the  unsubdued  depravi- 
ty of  his  heart  again  burst  forth.  He  rejoined  his  old 
companions,  retraced  his  former  steps  of  folly  and  sin, 
and  shortly  became  as  guilty  and  polluted  as  ever.  His 
conscience  was  now  more  sensitive.  He  could  not  sin 
with  equal  pleasure.  He  experienced  some  very  pungent 
convictions  and  alarming  fears  respecting  the  course  he 
was  pursuing.  He  adopted  various  methods  to  soothe  his 
conscience  and  allay  his  fears,  ut  all  were  in  vain.  His 
irregularities  induced  a  relapse  of  his  disorder,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  be  conveyed  again  to  Glastonbury.  His  malady 
did  not  assume  so  violent  a  character,  nor  continue  so  long 
as  before;  but  was  accompanied  with  similar  visions,  delu- 
sions, and  blasphemies.  He  made  an  attempt  on  his  life, 
but  w^s  prevented  from  accomplishing  his  purpose  by  the 
promptitude  o    his  keeper.     It  pleased  God  to  restore  him 


140  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

again  to  soundness  of  mind  ;  and  he  returned  to  Exeter" 
with  a  firm  resolution  to  renounce  his  former  habits  and, 
practices,  and  to  devote  himself  to  the  service  and  ways 
of  God.  But  his  resolutions,  like  all  those  formed  by 
mankind  in  their  own  strength,  were  soon  broken.  He 
was  overcome  by  temptations,  and  relapsed  into  the  very 
courses  which  had  been  the  occasion  of  his  misery.  Again 
his  conscience  became  alarmed,  his  mind  bewildered,  and 
all  the  symptoms  of  insanity  speedily  returned.  The 
same  measures  were  again  resorted  to  by  his  friends,  and 
he  was  convej^ed  a  third  time  to  Glastonbury.  The  jour- 
ney thither,  was  one  of  extreme  dejection  and  misery. 
He  threw  himself  from  his  horse,  with  the  intention  of 
breaking  his  neck :  but  the  Lord,  who  had  designs  of 
mercy  on  his  guilty  creature,  preserved  him  unhurt.  He 
reached  his  habitation,  where,  he  says,  he  was  again  as 
outrageous  and  furious,  as  despairing,  and  as  desperate,  as 
formerly. 

Again  the  divine  goodness  was  displayed  in  restoring 
him  to  perfect  sanity.  He  returned  home,  evidently  im- 
proved in  health  and  character.  Religion,  which  he  had 
formerly  detested,  was  now  sought  after  with  intense  in- 
terest. His  dreadful  calamities  were  overmled  for  his 
spiritual  good ;  and,  from  this  time  he  dates  his  first  seri- 
ous convictions.  He  at  length  found  'peace  with  God, 
through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ: '  and  was  seen  like  the 
lunatic  in  the  gospel,  '  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  clothed 
and  in  his  right  mind.'  The  direct  means  of  his  con- 
version to  God  he  could  not  specify ;  but  among  the  prin- 
cipal instruments  employed  to  effect  that  change,  he  reck- 
ons the  matron  of  the  establishment  at  Glastonbury.  She 
embraced  every  opportunity,  during  the  lucid  intervals,  to 
direct  his  attention  to  the  hopes  and  consolations  of  religion, 


GEORGE    TROSSE. 


141 


and  appears  to  have  been  eminently  successful.     In  sum- 
ming up  the  account  of  his  life  to  this  period,  he  thus 
writes:  — '  I  have  given  a  brief  narrative  of  a  wicked  and 
wretched  life,  a  life  full  of  daring  crimes,  and  visited  with 
dreadful  judgments  till  I  was  about  twenty-five  years  old. 
Though  God  might  have  then  justly  cut  me  off,  and  cast 
me  into  hell,  or  have  left  me   to   the  power  of  the  devil, 
and  the  sway  of  my  lusts,  or  have  increased  my  torments 
every  minute  of  the  remaining  part  of  my  continuance  on 
earth  ;  yet,  such  was  his  infinite  goodness,  and  matchless 
grace,  that  here  a  period  was  put  to  my  ungodly  courses, 
but  not  to  my  days.     I  believe  I  may  date  my  beginning 
to  seek  after  God,  and  my  perseverance  in  that  search  till 
I  had  found  him,  from  this  very  time;  for  though  1  can- 
not tell  the  minister  or  sermon  whereby  I  was  converted, 
yet,  I  bless  God,    I  can  say  I  am  what  I  was  not;   I  am 
quite  contrary  to  what  I  was  in  the  past  years  of  my  Ufe, 
both  in  judgment,  heart   and    conversation.      God   was 
pleased  to  make  use  of  all  the  terrors  of  my  conscience, 
those  dreadful  convictions,  and  the  lively  apprehensions  I 
had  of  the  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone,  to  drive  me  from  sin 
and  hell ;  and,  if  any  one  was  more  eminently  instrumen- 
tal in  my  conversion  than  another,  Mrs.  Gollop,  (the  lady 
before  alluded  to,)  was  the  person  ;  I  am  persuaded,  under 
God,  she  was  the  prime  instrument,  both  of  the  health  of 
my  body  and  the  salvation  of  my  soul.' 

Thus  was  this  enemy  of  God  subdued  by  the  power  of 
divine  grace,  and  made  to  rejoice  in  that  very  salvation 
which  he  had  so  long  despised.  Mr.  'J'rosse's  afflictions, 
vhe  natural  consequences  of  his  sins,  were  truly  awful, 
and  prove  the  truth  of  the  divine  word,  that  it  is  '  an  evil 
and  bitter  thing  to  sin  against  God.'  But  they  were, 
through  the  infinite  mercy  of  God,  overruled  and  sancti 
*13 


142  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

fied.  He  became  a  devoted  servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
lived  through  a  long  period,  to  show  that  he  was  indeed 
a  'brand  plucked  out  of  the  fire,'  and  to  testify  that  '  it  is 
a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that 
Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,'  even  the 
chief  of  sinners. 

In  the  conclusion  of  the  retrospect  that  Mr.  Trosse  took 
of  his  own  life,  he  draws  the  following  sketch  of  his 
character  and  history,  both  before  and  after  his  conver- 
sion. 

"  Thus  I  have  given  an  account  of  my  ignorant,  wick- 
ed and  profane  life,  to  the  time  of  my  convictions;  of  my 
deluded,  blasphemous,  despairing,  malicious,  revengeful, 
cruel,  and  miserable  life,  with  my  sad  and  repeated  relapses 
after  all,  to  the  commencement  of  my  sincere  endeavors,  as  1 
hope,  to  obtain  God's  favor,  and  my  walking  in  some  meas^ 
ure,  answerable  thereto.  Though  at  best,  1  must  own,  I 
came  abundantly  short  of  those  returns  of  gratitude,  love» 
zeal,  contempt  of  the  world,  self-denial,  vigilance,  fear, 
diligence,  and  laboriousness  in  God's  service,  which  my 
convictions  and  engagements,  my  advantages  and  blessed 
helps  I  have  enjoyed,  ever  since  I  began  to  seek  after  God» 
call  for. 

I  acknowledge  that  I  have  sadly  experienced  the 
strong  workings  of  corruption,  and  have  sometimes  been 
insensibly  drawn  into  great  snares  and  into  great  dan- 
ger of  foul  and  scandalous  falls ;  but,  still  keeping  and 
continuing  at  the  throne  of  grace,  God  was  pleased  to 
prevent  my  dishonoring  his  name,  disgracing  his  religion, 
scandalizing  of  sinners,  and  grieving  of  saints,  that  so  I 
mi^n^ht  not  be  the  devil's  triumph,  and  ruin  myself.  Since 
j»y  corruptions,  through  the  grace  of  God,  could  not  pre- 


GEORGE     TROSSE.  143 

vail  upon  me  to  give  over  my  duty  of  prayer ;  my  prayer, 
through  the  prevaihng  intercession  of  the  Mediator,  hath 
been  a  means  to  secure  me  from  acting  according  to  them. 
So  that  now,  I  hope,  I  am  more  confirnsed,  through  di- 
vine mercy,  in  my  resolutions  to  resist  and  mortify  than 
ever. 

Thus,  for  the  space  of  about  twenty-five  or  twenty-six 
■wears,  I  lived  in  a  state  of  nature,  in  a  course  of  sin  and 
follj^ ;  and  experienced  it  to  be  brutish,  unreasonable,  ru- 
inous, and  destructive  to  health,  estate,  and  name,  to  rest 
and  reason,  as  well  as  tending  to  horror,  despair,  rage,  and 
hell. 

But  now,  ever  since,  for  the  space  of  about  thirty-six 
years,  blessed  be  God  for  every  minute  of  them,  I  have 
kept  on  steadily  in  the  ways  of  God,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing all  oppositions  from  without,  and  more  dangerous  dis- 
couragements from  within,  I  have  found  them  blessed, 
honorable,  and  comfortable  with  respect  to  body  and 
mind,  and  all  outward  concerns,  as  well  as  to  heart  and 
conscience  within :  so  that  I  can  sd.y  from  experience,  if 
ever  any  one  could,  'that  gcJdliness  is  profitable  for  all 
things,  and  hath  the  promise  of  this  life,  as  well  as  of 
that  to  come.'  So  that  I  will  say  again,  that  I  never 
heard,  or  read,  of  a  person  so-  strangely  saved  from  sin 
and  hell,  so  wonderfully  .blessed  with  all  contrary  favors 
and  mercies. 

By  the  sins  and  debaucheries  in  my  younger  years  I 
very  much  injured  my  health,  and  impaired  my  constitu- 
tion. But  now,  at  this  age,  I  have  a  great  measure  of 
health  and  strength,  sound  vitals,  a  good  stock  of  spirits, 
that  I  can  undertake  and  go  through  much  studying  and 
preaching;  insomuch,  that  many  greatly  wonder  at  the 
bodily  strength  God  has  given  me. 


144  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

By  my  follies  and  vices  I  had  rendered  myself  a  sottisb 
and  illiteraie  dunce,  living,  about  ten  years,  a  wandering 
and  a  vain  life,  never  applying  myself  to  the  reading  of 
books,  or  to  studying,  that  I  might  preserve  that  little 
grammar-learning,  I  had  at  school,  so  that  1  could  not 
but,  in  a  great  measure,  forget  it.  But  now,  I  bless  God, 
I  understand  Greek  and  Latin,  and  have  read  many  vol- 
umes in  both  languages,  and  have  looked  into  the  origi- 
nal of  the  Old  Testament  with  good  satisfaction. 

Bj^  my  sins  and  sensualities,  I  had  brought  myself  into 
horrible  distractions,  and  perfect  naadness.  I  was,  for  a 
time,  deprived  of  the  regular  use  of  reason,  and  by  the 
disturbance  of  my  imagination,  I  becam.e  wild  and  out- 
rageous. But  now,  my  brain  is  composed,  my  mmd  calm, 
my  thoughts  orderly ;  I  have  a  fancy  to  invent,  and  a 
memory  to  retain  what  I  clearly  understand;  1  can  well 
remember  others'  sermons,  and  my  own.  I  acknowledge 
divine  goodness  and  mercy  in  all. 

By  my  profane  and  profligate  way  of  living,  I  had 
rendered  myself  the  just  object  of  good  men's  contempt, 
and  abhorrence.  But  nov/,  I  ihajik  God,  they  esteem  me 
worthy  of  their  favor  and  respect. 

By  my  profaneness  and  exorbitant  practices,  I  was 
atheistical  and  as  without  God  in  the  world  ;  acting  con- 
trary to  all  Scriptural,  divine,  and  saving  directions,  and 
this  too,  when  considerably  advanced  in  years.  But  now, 
I  am  fully  satisfied  that  I  am  orthodox,  in  the  fundamen- 
tals of  faith  and  practices,  and,  1  hope,  in  most  of  those 
truths  which  are  built  thereon. 

By  my  brutish  and  casual  way  of  life,  I  had  cast  my- 
self into  the  depths  of  despair  and  horror  ;  absolutely  con- 
cluding upon  an  impossibility  of  being  received  into  God's 
favor,  or  of  being  saved.     But  now,  I  hope  I  have  a  well- 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  145 

grounded  peace  in  my  conscience,  and  through  grace,  a 
comfortable  prospect  of  eternal  Hfe. 

By  my  violence  in  sins,  I  had  made  myself  so  vain, 
wild,  and  inconsiderate,  that  I  v/as  altogether  unfit  for 
the  meanest  and  most  easy  employment.  But  since, 
blessed  be  God,  I  have  been  judged  b\^  learned,  orthodox, 
and  faithful  ministers  of  Christ,  to  be  fit  and  qualified  for 
the  most  noble  and  excellent,  the  most  difficult  and  awful, 
but  yet  the  most  profitable  and  beneficial  of  vocations, 
namely,  the  ministerial.  And,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I, 
have  been  greatly  assisted  in  the  work  thereof,  and  have, 
at  this  day,  better  abilities,  both  of  body  and  mind,  for 
this  function,  than  when  1  was  younger.  So  that  God 
hath  not  only  turned  a  raging  persecutor  of  the  gospel, 
into  a  preacher  of  it,  as  he  did  by  St.  Paul ;  but  even  an 
ignorant  sot,  a  debauched  prodigal,  and  in  a  sense  a  des- 
perate devil,  into  a  servant  of  Christ,  owning  and  assisting 
him  in  delivering  the  embassy  of  the  blessed  gospel. 

By  my  sin  and  folly,  I  became  carnally  and  spiritually 
depraved  in  a  very  high  degree.  I  deprived  mj'self  of  all 
common  grace,  sunk  myself  beneath  the  beasts  that  per- 
ish, and  levelled  myself  in  effect,  with  the  devils  who 
are  damned,  in  their  despair,  rage,  and  enmity  against 
God,  and  in  their  malice  and  fury  against  man.  But 
now,  I  hope  God  hath  given  me  grace ;  has  advanced 
me  among  the  excellent  of  the  earth  ;  given  me  desires  to 
love  and  serve  him,  and  glorify  his  name,  and  excited  me 
to  do  the  same.  Now,  I  am  persuaded,  T  love  my  fellow- 
creatures,  and  can  heartily  pmy  for  them,  and  labor  to 
assist  them,  in  obtaining  their  chief  good,  the  eternal 
fruition  of  the  blessed  God. 

By  my  sin  and  folly  I  had  fitted  myself  for,  and  merited 
the  most  grevious  and  intolerable  of  all  the  torments  o." 


146  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

hell.  But  now,  I  believe  God  hath  put  me  into  a  state 
of  grace  here,  hath  justified  and  adopted  me  to  a  state  of 
glory.  But  how  mj  God  will  be  pleased  to  deal  by  me, 
what  he  will  do  for  and  upon  me,  in  the  remaining  part 
of  my  life,  how  he  will  dispose  of  me  from  henceforth,  I 
know  not ;  neither  am  I  solicitous  about  that.  Only  if 
he  please  to  answer  my  constant  prayers,  and  enable  me 
to  act  the  graces,  and  discharge  the  duties  of  every  con- 
dition he  shall  think  fit  to  put  me  into,  then  let  him  call 
me  to  do  and  suffer  what  he  judges  meet ;  since  of  men, 
ministers,  and  saints,  I  am  the  most  obliged  to  act  for 
him,  or  suffe  from  him,  in  compliance  with  his  will  and 
for  the  promotion  of  his  glory,  of  any  person  who  hath 
ever  been  in  the  world,  the  ministry,  or  the  church. 

This  relation  of  my  life  was  finished  by  me  on  the  fif- 
teenth day  of  February,  A.  D.  1692-3,  and  of  mine  age 
gixty-one,  and  about  five  months. 

Now  to  God  the  Father,  who  I  hope,  has  from  eternity 
determ.ined  grace  and  glory  for  me;  to  God  the  Son,  who 
purchased  all  for  me,  in  the  fullness  of  time,  by  his  hu- 
miliation, and  procured  all  by  his  prevailing  intercession; 
to  God  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  has  wrought  grace,  1  would 
hope,  in  me ;  to  this  eternal,  invisible,  and  glorious  Trini- 
ty, be  glory  and  praise,  be  love  and  service,  be  adoration 
and  hallelujahs  ascribed  by  me,  by  all  saints  and  angels 
on  earth  and  in  heaven,  forever,  and  ever.  Amen  and 
Amen." 

Mr.  Trosse  was  truly  a  monument  of  mercy :  and  the 
change  wrought  in  his  life  and  conduct  was  such  as  to 
strike  every  beholder  with  astonishment.  Deeply  did  he 
feel  his  obligations  to  divine  grace ;  and  he  was  anxious, 
therefore,  to  glorify  God  in  all.  his  ways.     Having  beer^ 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  147 

BO  greatly  blessed,  "  he  loved  much."  His  love  to  God 
was  ardent  and  intense.  This  was  the  principle  which 
moved  and  acted  him  in  religion.  He  read  and  medita- 
ted, and  fasted  and  prayed,  and  labored  and  suffered,  be- 
cause he  loved.  The  sight  of  God's  amiable  perfections 
delighted  his  heart ;  the  sense  of  his  love  in  giving  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  die  for  him,  in  regenerating  and  par- 
doning him,  knit  his  soul  to  God.  The  thoughts  of  God 
were  pleasant  to  him,  and  it  was  his  meat  and  drink  to 
do  the  will  of  his  heavenly  Father.  He  loved  all  that  be- 
longed to  God ;  his  word,  his  day,  his  worship,  his  peo- 
ple. He  was  deeply  affected  with,  and  would  often 
speak  with  admiration  of  his  distinguishing  love  to  him  in 
his  conversion. 

"Thanksgiving"  formed  an  essential  part  of  his  devo- 
tions. Like  many  of  his  contemporaries,  he  appropriated 
certain  seasons  to  this  delightful  exercise.  Praise  is 
one  of  the  principal  services  of  heaven ;  and  never  does 
a  sinful  creature  bear  a  greater  resemblance  to  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  skies,  than  when,  in  the  attitude  of  devotion, 
he  is  pouring  out  his  heart  in  thanksgiving  and  praise  to 
the  eternal  God.  Modern  devotions  are  characterized 
more  by  confession  and  petitions  than  by  adoration  and 
praise.  The  guilt  and  necessity  of  our  nature,  indeed,  re- 
quire that  we  should  be  frequent  and  urgent  in  our  sup- 
plications, but  our  mercies,  free,  numberless,  and  invaluable, 
demand  as  constant  acknowledgements  at  the  throne  of 
grace.  Li  the  overwhelming  sense  of  our  need,  we  are 
prone  to  forget  our  obligations  for  favors  received.  Not 
so,  however,  did  the  ancient  worthies  in  the  Christian 
churches.  "  What  shall  I  render  to  the  Lord  for  all  his 
benefits  towards  me?"  was  a  question  which  they  kept 
ever  before  them,  and  according  to  which  their  devotions 


148  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

were  regulated.  "  Whoso  offereth  praise  glorifieth  me, 
and  to  him  that  ordereth  his  conversation  aright,  will  I 
show  the  salvation  of  God." 

A  record  of  the  method  in  which  he  spent  his  time  on 
Sabbath  is  preserved.  "  He  arose  at  five  o'clock,  prayed 
for  a  blessing  on  his  secret  duties,  read  a  psalm  and  chap- 
ter, always  in  order,  except  on  sacrament  days,  when  he 
meditated  on  the  22d  Psalm,  and  the  53d  chapter  of 
Isaiah,  and  having  reflected  on  them,  he  spent  the  re- 
mainder of  the  time,  till  a  little  after  seven,  in  prayer. 
Then  he  went  down,  and  having  refreshed  himself,  he 
continued  in  family  duties  till  almost  nine,  which  was  the 
time  of  public  worship.  When  he  came  home,  he  went 
immmed lately  to  his  chamber,  without  warming  himself 
in  the  coldest  season.  When  he  had  walked  a  little,  he 
betook  himself  to  his  study,  and  continued  therein  prayer 
till  dinner.  After  that,  he  walked  by  himself,  till  his 
servants  had  dmed.  Then  he  prayed  for  a  blessing  and 
repeated  the  sermon  he  had  preached  or  heard  in  the  fore- 
noon ;  for  he  would,  by  heart  repeat  other  ministers'  ser- 
mons with  great  readiness,  though  he  had  very  little  time 
to  recollect  himself:  and  having  sung  a  psalm,  he  went 
again  to  the  house  of  God.  At  his  return,  he  went  forth- 
with to  his  chamber,  and,  after  a  little  while,  to  his  study, 
where  he  continued  about  an  hour  in  prayer.  Then  he 
supped,  and  afterward  read  in  some  good  book.  After  his 
servants  had  supped,  he  performed  family  duties  thus: 
He  began  with  prayer,  read  half  an  hour  by  his  watch, 
in  some  practical  book,  sung  part  of  a  psalm,  as  he  did 
every  morning  and  evening  before  prayer,  and  prayed 
about  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  He  was  longer  in  prayer 
and  praise  on  the  Lord's  day,  than  on  other  days,  for 
which  he  gave  this  reason :  because,  under  the  law  of 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  149 

Moses,  only  one  lamb  was  appointed  to  be  offered  in  the 
morning,  and  another  in  the  evening  on  other  days;  two 
were  required  on  the  Sabbath,  to  teach  us  to  double  our 
devotions. 

Thus  did  this  servant  of  God  spend  his  days,  "  as  the 
days  of  heaven "  upon  earth.  Living,  as  he  did,  in  the 
very  atmosphere  of  devotion,  and  nourished  and  fed  by 
the  "  bread  of  heaven,"  his  spiritual  health  was  maintained 
unimpaired  :  and  he  continued  to  "  grow  in  grace  and  in 
the  knowledge  of  the  Redeemer ; "  and  found  the  proph- 
et's declaration  to  be  true,  "  that  the  Lord  will  be  with  you 
while  ye  be  with  him." 

Living  in  the  exercise  of  great  spiritrality  of  mind,  Mr. 
Trosse  cared  little  for  the  "  good  things"  of  this  life.  He 
derived  his  happiness  from  above,  and  therefore  sought 
not  pleasures  from  earth  and  sense.  "  Temperance  is  one 
of  the  graces  of  the  Spirit,  and  equally  interdicts  an  excess 
of  aliment  whether  in  the  solid  or  liquid  form.  Gluttony 
is  as  guilty  as  intoxication ;  its  physical  effects  are  less 
obvious,  but  its  moral  guilt  is  the  same.  They  equally 
disqualify  for  the  service  of  God,  and  are  both  chargeable 
with  an  abuse  of  the  bounties  of  heaven.  Hence  the  cau- 
tion of  the  Savior,  "  Take  heed  to  yourselves,  lest  your 
hearts  at  any  time  be  overcharged  with  surfeiting  and 
drunkenness,  and  the  cares  of  this  life,  and  so  that  day 
come  upon  yo  i  unawares."  "  Mr.  Trosse,"  says  his 
biographer,  "  did  not  make  provision  for  the  flesh  to  fulfill 
its  lusts;"  nor  was  he  nice  and  curious  in  his  diet,  but 
moderate  in  eating  and  drinking,  and  lost  little  time  at  it. 
He  preferred  plain  substantial  food  before  that  which  is 
prepared  with  art  and  trouble.  He  seldom  took  anything 
between  meals,  and  being  short  and  sparing  at  them,  was 
the  filter  for  study,  his  abstinence  conducing  to  maintain 
14 


150  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

the  vigor  both  of  his  body  and  mind.  He  would  not 
drink  healths,  saying  when  he  refused  one,  that  was  of- 
fered him  at  a  mayor's  feast ;  "  In  my  j'outh,  I  had  al- 
most drank  away  the  health  of  my  body  and  soul;  but 
I  have  drank  no  healths  for  above  forty  years." 

In  his  ministerial  character,  there  is  much  that  deserves 
consideration.  He  had  a  powerful  sense  of  the  worth  of 
souls,  which  made  him  labor  night  and  day,  for  their  con- 
version and  salvation  ;  and,  having  himself  been  rescued 
from  everlasting  destruction,  almost  by  a  miracle  of  mercy, 
he  thought  he  could  never  do  enough  to  testify  his  grati- 
tude to  God,  and  his  compassion  to  men.  When  he  was 
old,  he  did  not  think  himself  at  liberty  to  remit  his  pains, 
indulge  his  ease,  or  hide  his  talent;  but,  as  a  good  soldier 
of  Jesus  Christ,  he  warred  a  good  warfare.  He  still 
labored  in  the  word  and  doctrine,  and  brought  forth  fruit 
in  old  age.  His  friends  often  importuned  him  to  favor 
himself,  and  have  respect  to  his  age  and  infirmities,  that 
he  might  be  the  longer  serviceable  in  the  world.  To  this 
his  reply  was,  '  I  came  late  into  the  vineyard,  and  must 
work  hard,  and  one  moment  in  heaven  will  be  a  sufficient 
recompense  for  all  that  I  can  do  on  earth.  All  his  studies 
were  conducted  in  the  spirit  of  devotion.  He  entertained 
a  salutary  fear  lest  they  should  divert  him  too  much  from 
his  spiritual  exercises.  "  My  desire  to  endow  my  mind 
with  sciences  and  languages,  and  to  treasure  up  ideas 
and  knowledge,  hath  been  very  pressing  on  my  spirit, 
since  I  came  hither,  not  only  to  take  my  pen  from  paper, 
but  also  my  heart  from  prayer;  not  only  to  bind  up  my 
hands  from  writing,  but  also  from  lifting  them  up  to  the 
throne  of  grace ;  and  my  calling  to  bo  a  scholar,  hath 
always  been  a  great  temptation  to  call  me  from  being  a 
Christian.     Yet  I  have  been  enabled,  by  grace,  to  keep 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  151 

my  religious  hours,  as  well  as  my  studious,  and  to  frequent 
the  temple  as  well  as  nay  study.  And  I  know  I  have 
lost  nothing,  but  my  gain  is  inconceivable  by  it. 

Luther  affirms,  •*  ti  at  to  pray  well,  is  to  study  well," 
and  Mr.  Trosse  says  in  his  journal,  "  I  have  experienced 
that  the  best  studying  is  on  our  knees ;  for  I  have  been 
taught  more  divinity  on  my  knees,  than  ever  I  learnt  by 
orthodox  writers  :  and,  in  my  secret  devotions,  I  have  been 
persuaded  of,  and  enlightened  in,  such  notions  and  truths 
as  I  never  before  met  with  elsewhere."  This  Testimony 
is  the  more  valuable,  as  it  is  that  of  a  man  who  was 
assiduous  in  his  studies,  and  anxious  to  acquire  knowledge 
from  every  source  within  his  power.  He  was  no  enthu- 
siast, but  sought  divine  illumination  and  instruction  in  the 
use  of  appointed  means. 

His  preaching  was  not  with  the  enticing  words  of 
man's  wisdom;  nor  did  he,  by  labored  periods  and 
starched  language,  hinder  the  edification  of  the  common 
people,  and  destroy  their  reverence  of  holy  things.  He 
studied  to  show  himself  approved  of  God,  a  workman  that 
needed  not  to  be  ashamed,  rightly  dividing  the  word  of 
truth.  His  public  exercises  had  spirit  and  life  in  them. 
His  heart  was  influenced  with  love  to  Christ,  and  with 
ardent  desires  after  the  salvation  of  his  hearers.  And  he 
spake  as  one  who  had  a  mighty  awe  of  God  upon  his 
spirit ;  as  one  whose  own  soul  was  possessed  of  those 
graces  which  he  recommended,  and  those  afFtctions  which 
he  endeavored  to  excite  in  others;  as  one  who  had  no 
other  design  upon  his  hearers,  than  to  reform  their  lives, 
and  save  their  souls.  He  was  skillful  in  explaining  and 
appljnng  divine  truths;  and  faithful,  keeping  back  noth- 
ing from  his  people  which  was  profitable  unto  them.  He 
shunned  not  to  declare  unto  them,  all  the  counsel  of  God, 
that  he  might  be  pure  from  the  blood  of  all  men. 


152  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

Like  the  holy  Apostle,  "  he  counted  not  his  life  dear  to 
him,  so  that  he  might  finish  his  course  with  joy,  and  the 
ministry  which  he  had  received  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  to  tes- 
tify the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God.  He  shrunk  not  from 
duty,  even  when  its  performance  was  painful  and  haz- 
ardous, but  relied  for  security  and  support  on  Him  in 
whose  cause  he  was  embarked,  and  whose  glory  he  was 
anxious  to  promote.  Nor  w^as  he  disappointed.  His  life 
was  preserved,  amidst  every  peril,  to  a  lengthened  period. 
He  had,  moreover,  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  his 
labors  both  public  and  private,  were  not  in  vain  in  the 
Lord.  Success  crowned  his  efforts;  and  although  he  had 
not  so  many  seals  of  his  ministry  as  he  w*ished,  yet  he 
was  blessed  with  more  than  he  expected.  The  desires  of 
a  faithful  minister  respecting  the  salvation  of  sinners,  are 
unbounded;  his  wishes  comprehend  the  whole  human 
family.  And  within  the  limited  sphere  of  his  labors,  he 
cannot  be  satisfied  without  the  conversion  of  all.  This 
privilege  is  granted  to  no  man  :  but  such  is  the  expansive 
benevolence  of  the  gospel,  that  it  allows  none  of  its  faith- 
ful heralds  to  be  contented,  till  the  common  salvation  is 
universally  enjoyed.  He  is  gratified  and  delighted  when 
one  soul  is  brought  to  Christ ;  and  his  pleasure  rises  in 
proportion  to  the  accessions  which  are  made  to  the  king- 
dom of  the  Redeemer;  but  still  he  regrets  and  mourns 
that  others  should  remain  in  their  ignorance  and  sins, 
with  "joyful  grief."  Therefore,  he  prosecutes  his  labors, 
and  earnestly  prays  that  the  "  kingdom  of  God  may 
come,"  and  that  the  whole  earth  may  be  filled  with  his 
glory. 

The  biographer  of  Mr.    Trosse,    thus    concludes  his 
sketch. 

"Thus  lived,  and  thus  died,  this  excellent  man,    an 


GEORGE    TROSSE.  153 

astonishing  instance  of  divine  grace  which  reformed  and 
pardoned  him ;  an  encouraging  example  of  repentance, 
like  the  Apostle  Paul  of  old,  for  the  chief  of  sinners.  The 
two  parts  of  whose  life,  like  contraries  set  near  together, 
afford  a  most  lively  delineation  of  the  odious  nature  of  sin 
and  the  beauty  of  holiness,  and  serve  most  powerfully  to 
discourage  the  one,  and  recommend  the  other.  An  admiring 
and  grateful  sense  of  divine  goodness,  and  a  very  sorrowful 
remorse  for  the  loss  of  the  first  part  of  his  life,  constantly 
governed  his   mind  for  the  last  six  and  fifty  years  of  it, 
and  made  him  redeem  time,  after  a  very  uncommon  rate, 
by  reason  of  which  he  far  outwent  those  who  began  their 
Christian   course  much   ealier  than   hmiself     Practical 
religion   adorned   his  profession,   and,  by  his  being  inde- 
fatigable in  doing  good,  he  made  it  appear  that  he  thought 
as  he  spake,  when  he  declared,  '  he  neither  valued,  or 
desired  life  on  any  other  account.'     And,  while  some  are 
peculiarly  eminent  in  some  graces,  those  who  best  knew 
him,  were  ready  to  think  there  were  few,  if  any,  to  be 
mentioned  in   which  he  did  not  excel.     These  rendered 
him  eminent  in  eveiy  relation  and  capacity ;  as  a  son,  a 
husband,  a  father,  a  neighbor,  a  friend,  and  more  especial- 
ly,  as  a  minister  of  the  gospel.     And  though   he  had 
doubtless  his  failings,  as  well  as  other  men  ;  yet  so  extra- 
ordinary an  example  is  seldom  to  be  found,  of  sobriety, 
justice,  temperance,  industry,   humilitj^   self-denial,  con- 
tentment, patience,  charity,  contempt  of  the  world,  love 
to  God,  trust  in  him,  resignation  to  his  will,  zeal  for  his 
glory,  and  in  a  word,  of  whatever  belongs  to  the  charac- 
ter of  a  Christian  or  of  a  minister.     It  can  be  no  wonder 
that  such  a  person  should  live  beloved,  and  die  lamented 
by  good  men  of  all  persuasions ;  his  malignant  enemies 
*14 


154  GEORGE    TROSSE. 

have  nothing  to  accuse  him  of,  save  in  the  matters  of  his 
reUgion,  wherein  he  was  truly  fervent  and  zealous.  But 
his  piety  baffled  their  weak  efforts  to  blacken  him  while 
he  lived,  and  his  memory  shall  be  blessed  when  the  name 
of  the  wicked  shall  rot." 


CHAPTER    IV. 
MAJOR    GEN.    ANDREW    BURN. 

THE    GOODNESS    OF    GOD    LEADING    TO    REPENTANCE. 

Andrew  Burn,  whose  case  next  comes  under  our  re- 
view, was  born,  in  1742,  at  Dundee,  in  Scotland.  We 
give  his  story  in  his  own  words. 

"  Besides  the  common  mercy,  of  being  born  in  a  Chris- 
tian land,  God  was  pleased  to  bestow  upon  me  another, 
which  is  not  common  to  all  his  children :  that  of  being 
born  of  godly  parents,  and  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
truly  pious  relations. 

Infant  reason  no  sooner  dawned,  than  they  began  to 
use  every  possible  means  to  give  that  reason  a  right  bias 
towards  its  proper  object ;  and  they  daily  approached  the 
throne  of  grace  with  fervent  prayer  for  their  helpless 
child,  before  he  knew  how  to  pray  for  himself.  When  a 
rude  and  unthinking  boy  at  school,  I  have  sometimes 
stood  at  my  pious  grand mothci-'s  closet  door;  and  how 
many  heart-affecting  prayers  and  ardent  supplications 
have  I  heard  poured  forth  for  me,  for  which  I  then  never 
iraascined  there  was  the  smallest  occasion ! 


156  ANDREW    BURN. 

The  virtuous  and  evangelical  principles  I  imbibed  in 
my  youth,  and  the  pious  examples  constantly  set  before 
me,  though  frequently  slighted,  and  sometimes  in  the 
course  of  a  wicked  life  entirely  forgotten,  yet  seldom  or 
never  failed  to  witness  against  me  in  the  wilful  commis- 
sion of  sin  ;  and  frequently  were  means  of  preventing  its 
perpetration :  and  what  prevents  sin,  must  surely  be  a 
great  blessing. 

From  my  infancy  to  the  age  of  sixteen,  having  none 
but  virtuous  examples  before  me,  and  being  surrounded 
with  pious  relatives,  ready  to  warn  and  correct  me  on  the 
least  failure,  I  should  have  been  in  a  manner  constrained 
to  walk  circumspectly,  even  if  I  had  been  most  viciously 
inclined  :  that,  however,  was  not  the  case :  for  my  com- 
passionate Creator,  among  all  his  other  favors,  gave  me  a 
tender  conscience,  which  in  those  early  days  v.'as  more 
hearkened  to  than  it  has  frequently  been  since;  and,  if  1 
mistake  not,  the  principal  part,  if  not  the  whole  of  my 
religion  consisted  in  attempts  to  pacify  this  clamorous 
monitor. 

My  parents  carefully  taught  me  to  pray  with  the  lip ; 
but  it  was  beyond  their  power  to  make  me  pray  with  the 
heart,  and  that  I  seldom  or  never  did.  I  was  obliged  to 
repeat  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  at  least,  once  a  week, 
for  eight  or  ten  years  together;  but  I  may  safely  venture 
to  affirm,  I  did  not  know  the  spiritual  meaning  of  one  sen- 
tence in  it.  The  Bible  also  I  read  over  several  limes,  but 
with  no  more  profit  at  that  period  than  I  received  from  re- 
peating the  catechism.  The  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  with 
salvation  through  him  alone,  was  continually  sounding 
in  my  ears ;  but,  alas  !  1  neither  saw  my  need  of  such  a 
Savior,  nor  at  all  understood  the  extreme  importance  of 
this  declaration.     Indeed,    I   thought  it  was   my   indis- 


ANDREW    BURN.  157 

pensable  duty  to  be  religious  like  those  about  me, 
that  I  might  escape  the  pains  of  hell,  and  lay  in  a 
claim  to  the  joys  of  heaven.  A  phaiisec  in  minia- 
ture, I  delighted  to  think  of  heaven,  and  often  longed  to 
be  one  of  its  inhabitants  ;  though  I  never  rightly  relished 
the  nature  of  their  divine  employment." 

About  the  age  of  fourteen,  young  Burn  was  appren- 
ticed to  a  respectable  attorney,  and  pursued  his  studies 
with  considerable  success,  for  somewhat  more  than  a  year, 
when  he  became  discontented  and  set  his  heart  strongly 
upon  entering  the  nav3^  Having  gained  his  father's 
consent,  he  embarked  in  a  sloop  of  war,  just  as  he  was 
entering  his  sevenleeiith  year,  and  after  one  or  two  short 
cruises  in  the  North-Sea,  and  the  Channel,  sailed  with  a 
convoy,  in  the  month  of  April  1759,  for  the  West  Indies. 
He  had  not  been  long  at  Jamaica,  when  his  father,  under 
whose  pious  care  he  had  been  kept  back  from  many  pre- 
sumptuous sins,  was  constrained  by  ill  health  to  leave 
the  service,  and  return  to  England.  Before  he  left,  he 
obtained  his  son's  discharge  also,  and  then  all  young 
Burn's  hopes  of  rising  in  the  navy  were  dashed  at 
once. 

Here,  however,  he  soon  obtained  a  lucrative  place  in 
the  service  of  a  planter,  and  entertained  sanguine  hopes 
of  amassing  a  fortune.  In  Jamaica  he  remained  about 
one  year,  during  which  time  he  gradually  threw  off  those 
restraints  of  conscience,  which  had  hitherto  preserved 
him  from  the  grosser  vices,  and  having  been  mercifully 
spared,  when  most  of  his  young  companions  were  swept 
off  by  sickness,  he  resolved  to  embrace  the  first  opportuni- 
ty of  returning  to  England.  The  voyage  was  long  and 
extremely  perilous,  and  when  he  landed,  he  was  soon 


158  ANDREW    BURN. 

reduced  to  his  last  shilling.  After  many  disappointments, 
which  are  particularly  detailed  in  his  diary,  and  in  which 
he  afterwards  saw  the  overruling  hand  of  a  merciful 
Providence,  he  obtained  a  commission  in  the  marines, 
and  found  himself  very  agreeably  stationed  at  Chatham. 

"  In  this  town,"  says  he,  "  ten  years  after  the  events  I 
am  now  narrating,  the  Lord  was  graciously  pleased  to 
reveal  to  my  rejoicing  heart,  the  best  of  all  his  blessings, 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  witnessing  by  his  Spirit,  that  he 
was  bestowed  freel3%  without  money,  and  without  price, 
that  the  whole  praise  might  redound  to  his  infinite  mercy. 
Of  what  avail  would  all  his  other  blessings  have  been, 
without  this  ?  Without  Christ  Jesus  I  had  turned  them 
all  into  a  curse. 

For  the  three  j^ears  previous  to  this  period,  having  been 
tossed  about  from  place  to  place,  in  a  very  unsettled  state* 
as  above  described,  I  had  little  opportunity  and  much  less 
inclination,  to  attend  the  means  of  grace,  or  to  read  good 
books.  But  now  having  more  spare  time  than  I  well 
knew  how  to  employ,  my  earl}''  habits  involuntarily  re- 
turned to  my  recollection.  I  began  to  consider  how  I 
could  most  advantageously  employ  my  leisure,  and  ac- 
cordingly laid  down  a  regular  plan  for  the  performance 
of  religious  duties,  to  which  I  strictly  adhered.  Most  of 
my  ancestors  having  been  members  of  the  church  of 
Scotland,  and  having  myself  been  educated  under  my 
pious  grandfather,  a  minister  of  that  church,  I  thought  it 
was  not  my  duty  to  leave  it,  and  therefore  joined  a  Pres- 
byterian congregation  at  Rochester.  I  constantly  attend- 
ed divine  service,  received  the  sacrament  once  a  month, 
made  a  conscience  of  strictly  performing  my  private  de- 
votions, and  I  believe  was  considered  by  most  who  knew 
me,  to  be  a  very  good  Christian.     Nay,  pharisee-like,  I 


ANDREW    BURN.  159 

was  very  much  inclined  to  think  so  myself.  But  what- 
ever I  might  be  in  my  own  eyes,  or  in  the  eyes  cf  others, 
1  certainly  was  far  from  being  right  in  the  sight  of  a  pure 
and  holy  God.  As  yet,  I  was  ignorant  of  the  depth  of 
iniquity  in  my  depraved  heart;  I  had  but  very  indistinct 
views  of  the  extent  and  spirituality  of  God's  holy  law, 
and  no  just  conceptions  of  the  heinous  nature  and  dread- 
ful effects  of  sin  ;  consequently  could  not  fully  appreciate 
the  value  of  the  precious  blood  shed  to  take  it  away,  or 
heartily  love  or  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  was 
manifested  to  rescue  his  people  frcm  tie  bondage  of  sin. 
So  far  from  partaking  of  this  happy  freedom,  I  still  re- 
mained the  willing  slave  to  various  sinful  lusts  and  pas- 
sions, and  felt  no  remorse  in  daily  doing  many  things  I 
should  shudder  to  think  of  now.  Thus  1  continued  for 
several  months ;  and,  however  strange  it  may  appear,  even 
then,  from  the  severe  checks  of  an  awakened  and  tender 
conscience,  I  made  som.e  progress  in  a  relig-ious  life.  In- 
deed my  experience  at  this  period  appears  a  perfect  para- 
dox, and  obliges  me  to  relate  things  apparently  irreconci- 
lable, because  they  were  true.  Though  I  was  frequently 
with  little  remor.-e  falling  into  sin,  yet  by  the  power  of 
restraining  grace,  I  was  enabled  to  cut  off  many  sins  as 
dear  to  me  as  a  right  hand,  or  a  right  eye. 

Having  had  great  experience  then,  and  since,  in  these 
painful  operations,  I  would  recommend  it  to  those  who 
are  determined  to  be  *' on  the  Lord's  side,"  to  be  resolutely 
expeditious.  If  a  limb  of  our  body  is  to  be  amputated, 
and  an  unskillful  surge  >n,  instead  of  doing  it  in  a  few 
minutes,  should  keep  sawing  and  cutting  it  for  a  whole 
day,  how  dreadfully  excruciating  would  such  an  operation 
be  !  Just  so  it  is  in  a  spiritual  sense  ;  the  more  violent  it 
grows,  and   the  more  difficult  afterwards  to  subdue ;  but 


160  ANDREW    BURN. 

if  you  have  courage  effectually  to  destroy  it  at  one  stroke, 
the  soul  is  immediately  set  at  a  happy  liberty.  When 
the  Lord  was  pleased  to  convince  me  of  the  sin  of  spend- 
ing so  much  valuable  time  at  cards,  (my  whole  attention 
and  thoughts  being  carried  after  them,)  1  found  it  neces- 
sary, for  the  peace  of  my  conscience,  to  set  about  a  refor- 
mation. First  I  vowed,  and  that  very  solemnly,  that  1 
would  only  devote  a  certain  time  to  them,  and  no  more; 
but  this  resolution  continually  failing,  I  next  determined 
to  play  only  for  a  certain  sum  and  never  to  exceed  it. 
When  that  would  not  do,  I  vowed  still  more  resolutely 
to  play  only  for  recreation,  determining  to  be  careful  in 
the  choice  of  persons  with  whom  I  played.  But  all 
proved  ineffectual.  The  more  I  resolved,  the  stronger 
grew  the  sin.  A  multitude  of  broken  vows  heaped  guilt 
upon  guilt,  and  brought  an  accumulated  load  of  sorrow 
upon  my  mind.  So  much  so,  that  on  one  Lord's  day, 
when  I  was  to  receive  the  sacrament,  before  I  approached 
the  sacred  ordinance,  my  conscience  so  keenly  accused 
me  on  account  of  this  beloved  idol,  that  I  hardly  knew 
what  to  do  with  myself.  I  tried  to  pacify  it  by  a  renewal 
of  all  my  resolutions,  with  many  additions  and  amend- 
ments. I  parleyed  and  reasoned  the  matter  over  for  hours, 
trying,  if  possible,  to  come  to  some  terms  of  accommodation, 
but  still  the  obstinate  monitor  within  cried  out  — "  There's 
an  Achan  in  the  camp;  approach  the  table  of  the  Lord 
if  you  dare."  Scared  at  the  threat,  and  yet  unwilling  to 
part  with  my  darling  lusts,  I  became  like  one  possessed. 
Restless  and  uneasy,  1  flew  out  of  the  house,  to  vent  my 
misery  with  more  freedom  in  the  fields,  under  the  wide 
canopy  of  heaven.  Here  I  was  led  to  meditate  on  the 
happiness  of  the  righteous,  and  the  misery  of  the  wicked 
in  a   future  state.     The  importance  of  eternity,  falling 


ANDREW     BURN.  161 

with  a  ponderous  weight  upon  my  soul,  raised  such  a 
vehement  indignation  against  "the  accursed  thing" 
within,  that,  crying  to  God  for  help,  I  kneeled  down 
under  a  hedge,  and  taking  heaven  and  earth  to  witness, 
wrote  on  a  piece  of  paper  with  my  pencil,  a  solemn  vow 
that  I  never  would  play  at  cards,  on  any  pretence  what- 
soever, so  long  as  I  lived.  No  sooner  had  I  put  my  name 
to  this  solemn  vow,  than  I  felt  myself  another  creature. 
Sorrow  took  wing  and  flew  away,  and  a  delightful  peace 
succeeded.  The  intolerable  burden  being  removed  from 
my  mind,  I  approached  the  sacred  table  of  the  Lord  with 
an  unusual  degree  of  pleasure  and  delight.  This  was  not 
my  only  idol.     I  had  many  others  to  contend  with. 

But  while  I  was  endeavoring  to  heal  my  wounded  soul 
in  one  place,  ere  1  was  aware,  sin  broke  out  in  another. 
Yet  still  I  kept  striving,  and  at  that  time  was  far  from 
thmking  myself  unsuccessful ;  conceiving  my  state  a 
very  safe  one,  I  was  comfortable  and  cheerful.  Indeed, 
I  have  often  wondered  since  at  the  happiness  I  then  en- 
joyed. 

The  thought  has  sometimes  almost  stumbled  me.  I 
loved  the  society  of  Christians,  and  sometimes  had  sweet 
communion  with  God  in  prayer  and  other  ordinances. 
Nay,  1  have  at  times  enjoyed  such  happy  moments,  such 
delightful  intercourse  with  heaven,  particularly  on  an 
evening,  that  after  having  recommended  my  soul  to  God 
in  fervent  supplication,  1  have  lain  down  with  the  great- 
est serenity  of  mind,  and  been  indifferent  whether  I  should 
ever  open  my  eyes  again  in  this  world  or  not. 

My  reliance  at  this  time  was  not  on  my  works,  but 
on  the  mercy  of  God  as  freely  manifested  in  Christ  Jesus, 
Yet  I  remained  a  stranger  to  the  quickening  power  of  di- 
vine grace  in  my  soul. 
15 


162  ANDREW     BURN. 

The  sound  doctrines  of  the  gospel  floated  in  my  head, 
but  I  believe  they  had  not  fully,  if  at  all,  reached  my  heart. 
If  I  am  not  much  mistaken,  I  was  as  yet  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, carnal,  unaffected,  and  ignorant.  The  world  was 
neither  crucified  to  me,  nor  I  to  it.  I  had  not  learnt  wholly 
to  deny  myself,  to  take  up  my  cross,  and  to  follow  Christ. 
But  whatever  my  state  might  be  at  that  time,  whether  1 
enjoyed  a  true  or  false  peace,  this  one  thing  I  am  sure 
of — the  Lord  in  infinite  mercy  and  goodness  has  since, 
by  various  means,  imperceptibly  brought  me  to  a  more 
feeling  sense  of  my  own  vileness  and  wretched  state  by 
nature,  and  to  a  greater  acquaintance  with  the  iniquity  of 
my  depraved  heart,  and  has  given  me  clearer  apprehen- 
sions of  his  love  to  lost  sinners,  as  displayed  in  the  gift  of 
his  only  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Though  I  am  yet  a  babe  in 
this  saving  knowledge,  I  humbly  trust  he  will  perfect 
the  work  he  has  begun,  to  the  praise  of  the  glory  of  his 
grace." 

Undoubtedly,  the  subject  of  this  memoir  was  still  "  in 
the  o-all  of  bitterness,  and  the  bonds  of  iniquity,'  or  after 
several  changes  in  the  service,  and  some  remarkable  de- 
liverances, he  went  to  France  upon  the  return  of  peace,  in 
1763,  where  he  spent  several  years,  in  all  the  dissipations 
of  that  voluptuous  country ;  and  where  he  had  well  nigh 
embraced  a  sort  of  refined,  sensual,  and  philosophical 
atheism. 

"  I  now,"  says  he,  "  looked  upon  myself  as  one,  who, 
by  dint  of  study  and  reflection,  had  entirely  shaken  off 
the  prejudices  of  education,  and  got  above  the  religion 
of  the  country  in  which  I  was  born.  My  religion,  I 
thought,  was  now  of  the  most  refined  description,  thor- 
oughly purged  from  every  bigoted  principle,  and  what  all 


ANDREW     BURN.  163 

men  of  sense  would  readily  approve,  though  it  would 
puzzle  an  abler  judgment  than  mine,  rightly  to  define 
what  it  was. 

In  this  frame  of  mind,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  I 
arrived  in  England,  after  having  spent  six  weeks  at  Paris, 
at  the  time  of  the  marriage  of  king  Louis,  rolling  in  every 
forbidden  pleasure,  and  delighting  without  remorse  in  all 
the  sinful  gratifications  which  that  polluted  city  could 
present  to  its  votaries.  On  my  coming  to  London,  I  was 
so  surfeited  with  those  pleasures  in  which  the  world 
places  its  chief  happiness,  that  for  a  time,  I  had  no  relish 
to  partake  any  more  of  them ;  but  God  knows,  that,  not- 
withstanding this,  I  had  not  the  least  desire  after  anything 
that  was  good. 

My  whole  conduct,  and  way  of  thinking  were  so  visibly 
diflferent  from  what  they  were,  when  I  left  England,  that 
all  my  former  acquaintance,  especially  those  at  Chatham, 
could  not  forbear  taking  particular  notice  of  the  change. 
They  that  feared  God  saw  it  with  sorrow,  and  I  believe 
prayed  for  me  —  (the  Lord  reward  them  for  their  prayers, 
for  they  were  surely  heard.)  To  others  it  was  a  matter 
of  satisfaction,  and  a  good  subject  for  mirth,  to  perceive 
that  their  former  bigoted  companion  had  effectually  wiped 
off  what  they  and  I  were  now  pleased  to  call  the  preju- 
dices of  religion.  Upon  my  arrival  in  Scotland,  it  was 
still  worse.  A  pious  father  and  mother,  with  sorrow  of 
heart,  soon  remarked  the  melancholy  change,  which  I 
had  not  hypocrisy  enough  to  conceal.  They  so  often 
repeated  this  expression,  "  France  has  been  your  ruin," 
that  1  began  seriously  to  reflect,  whether  it  really  was  so 
or  not.  Upon  a  strict  examination  of  what  I  had  expe- 
rienced seven  or  eight  years  before,  I  could  hardly  per- 
suade myself  it  was  all  a  delusion  ;  but  was  rather  in- 


164  ANDREW     BURN. 

clined  to  think  there  might  be  some  reality  in  it ;  and  if 
so,  I  naturally  concluded  I  could  not  be  right  now,  be- 
cause nothing  could  be  more  clear  than  the  difference 
there  was  between  the  state  of  my  mind  at  that  period, 
and  at  the  present.  Notwithstanding  my  secret  misgiv- 
ings, I  was  both  ashamed  and  loth  to  give  up  a  system  of 
religion,  or  I  should  rather  say  of  irreligion,  so  well  suited 
to  my  natural  incUnation,  and  probably  should  have  car- 
ried it  with  me  to  the  grave,  if  grace  had  not  prevented. 
The  chief  cause  why  I  afterwards  discarded  it,  was 
that  God  in  mercy  to  me,  would  not  let  me  keep  it. 
The  repeated  admonitions  of  my  pious  relatives,  to  which 
I  was  forced  to  listen,  helped  greatly  to  confirm  the  sus- 
picions about  the  safety  of  my  state ;  and  from  one  step 
to  another,  my  doubts  imperceptibly  increased,  till  at  last 
I  began  to  grow  restless  and  uneasy.  I  sometimes  wished 
I  had  never  imbibed  these  pernicious  principles,  which 
Still  retained  their  chief  seat  in  my  heart.  What  seemed 
most  to  shake  my  suspicions  at  this  time,  was  the  remem- 
brance of  that  Pharisaical  disposition  and  spiritual  pride 
with  which  I  was  puffed  up  when  I  left  Chatham ;  and 
a  secret  strong  persuasion  that  God  had  thus  left  me  on 
purpose,  to  root  it  out  effectually,  by  showing  me  how 
unable  I  was  to  stand  when  left  to  myself,  and  to  what 
dreadful  lengths  I  was  liable  to  run.  These  reflections 
were  accompanied  by  a  hope  that  God  would  one  day 
restore  me  to  his  favor ;  but  how,  or  when,  or  where,  this 
mighty  change  should  be  effected,  I  had  no  conception. 
So  far  from  this,  I  was  led  to  believe  it  a  thing  almost 
impossible ;  the  whole  bent  of  my  mind  was  so  diametri- 
cally opposite  to  a  practical  reception  of  the  truths  revealed 
in  the  gospel,  that  had  it  not  been  for  this  secret  hope  that 
encouraged  me,  I  never  should  have  attempted  to  search 


ANDREW     BURN.  165 

after  them.  I  attended  on  the  means  of  grace.  I  read, 
I  prayed  ;  but  my  heart  remained  just  as  hard  and  insen- 
sible, and  if  possible,  more  prone  than  ever,  to  everything 
that  was  bad.  But  God,  who  is  •'  rich  in  mercy,  worketh 
and  none  can  let." 

He,  therefore,  made  use  of  such  instruments  as  proved 
effectual  to  raze  the  foundation  of  all  those  false  hopes 
and  erroneous  notions  by  which  the  devil  held  me  fast. 

•  The  first  things  that  made  any  evident  impression 
upon  me,  were  the  pious  letters  of  my  Christian  corre- 
spondents: though  1  could  not  then  embrace  what  they 
advanced,  yet  I  clearly  saw  its  truth,  and  longed  to  be  in 
their  safe  and  happy  state.  I  disputed  with  them,  but  it 
was  with  a  kind  of  reluctance,  and  one  thing  has  fre- 
quently struck  me,  that  though  I  was  well  persuaded  of 
my  ability  to  stagger  them  by  raising  arguments,  which 
I  had  picked  up  in  disputing  with  the  Roman  Catholics, 
yet  I  never  was  permitted  to  make  use  of  them.  When 
I  attempted,  a  secret  impulse  from  within  seemed  to  whis- 
per thus :  —  "  What !  turn  advocate  for  Satan  !  Not 
content  with  being  blinded  by  him,  yourself,  must  you 
endeavor  to  delude  others  ! " 

This,  together  with  a  kind  of  secret  pride,  lest  my 
friends  should  think  I  was  ten  times  worse  than  they  at 
first  imagined,  prevented  my  throwing  stumbling  blocks  in 
their  way.  Though  I  was  unwilling  to  yield  to  the  force 
of  my  correspondents'  arguments,  yet  I  could  not  help 
being  convinced  they  were  agreeable  to  the  word  of  God, 
and  I  found  they  gained  more  and  more  upon  me  every 
day,  till  by  the  grace  of  Jesus,  they  had  imperceptibly 
created  a  secret  and  growing  desire  to  be  reconciled  to 
the  infinitely  gracious  Being,  whom  I  was  now  made  sen^ 
sible  I  had  most  grievously  offended.  Blessed  be  the 
M5 


166  ANDREW     BURN. 

name  of  the  Lord  !  he  did  not  stop  here.  If  he  had,  these 
slight  impressions  would  soon  have  worn  off,  and  I  had 
now  been  either  enduring-  torment,  or,  what  is  next  to  it, 
wallowing  in  sin.  But  his  rich  mercy  followed  me  from 
one  means  to  another,  till  my  iaipenitent  heart  felt  the 
power  of  his  grace,  was  made  willing  to  submit  to  his 
sovereign  will,  and  to  accept  of  a  free  and  full  salvation 
by  a  crucified  Redeemer. 

I  had  been  but  a  few  months  with  my  friends  in  Scot- 
land, when  I  was  unexpectedly  ordered  upon  actui',1  ser- 
vice, and  obliged  to  repair  to  London  with  all  speed.  I 
arrived  there  in  December,  1770,  after  a  tedious  and  per- 
ilous passage  by  sea,  having  more  than  once  or  twice  ex- 
perienced the  goodness  of  God  in  delivering  me  fiom  the 
most  imminent  danger.  He  had  gracious  purposes  of  love 
towards  me,  which  were  ripening  apace,  and  just  ready  to 
be  manifested.  Some  military  business  detained  me  in 
London  nearl}^  two  months;  in  which  interval,  God  was 
pleased  to  emploj'-  two  very  powerful  means  to  break 
asunder  the  chains  of  darknsss,  by  which  Satan  had  long 
led  me  captive  at  his  will.  The  first  was  the  unexpected 
and  melancholy  account  of  the  death  of  a  dearly  beloved 
brother.  He  was  my  only  brother,  and  I  loved  him  as 
my  own  soul !  The  painful,  though  friendly  stroke  fell 
with  uncommon  weight  upon  my  mind,  and  a  circum- 
stance, somewhat  remarkable,  served  to  render  it  still  more 
affecting.  I  received  the  gloomy  communication  upon 
nearly  the  same  spot  where,  seven  or  eight  years  before, 
we  had  taken  our  last  affectionate  farewell  of  each  other. 
Oh  how  solemn  and  pungent  was  the  thought !  It  prey- 
ed upon  my  soul,  making  me  seriously  reflect  upon  my 
latter  end,  and  compelling  me,  (though  with  dread)  to 
look  beyond  the  grave,  towards  that  awful  and  eternal 


ANDRfiW    BURN.  167 

State  into  which  my  dear  brother  had  just  entered.  I  now 
began,  in  good  earnest,  to  see  the  vanity  and  dangerous 
tendency  of  those  abominable  and  erroneous  notions  to 
which  I  had  tenaciously  adhered  for  several  years.  They 
now  stood  dressed  in  their  proper  colors,  and  loudly  pro- 
claimed their  diabolical  origin.  A  strong  and  restless 
desire  to  be  savingly  united  to  God  and  his  people,  drove 
them  from  the  place  they  held  in  my  heart,  and  evidently 
prevailed  in  their  room. 

I  saw  the  absolute  necessity  there  was  of  such  a  Savior 
as  Jesus  Christ,  and  was  convinced  there  was  no  possibili- 
ty of  being  saved  any  other  way  than  by  him.  But  not 
feeling  as  yet  any  love  in  my  heart  towards  him,  nor  per- 
ceiving in  his  glorious  person  any  thing  that  I  thought 
would  ever  attract  my  affections,  I  grieved  and  mourned, 
and  wept;  being  well  persuaded,  that  unless  I  loved  Jesus 
Christ,  there  could  be  no  hope  of  my  salvation.  Besides, 
I  was  as  yet  under  the  domineering  power  of  sin,  neither 
had  the  Lord  shown  me  its  heinous  nature,  nor  that  most 
dreadful  of  all  sights,  my  abominably  wicked  heart.  That 
he  reserved  for  another  period.  He  seemed  now  to  be 
drawing  me  to  himself  with  "the  cords  of  love." 

About  a  fortnight  after  my  brother's  death,  while  I  cor. 
tinued  in  a  mournfully  disconsolate  state  of  mind,  because 
I  could  not  love  Christ,  I  dreamed  a  very  distinct  and 
remarkable  dream,  which  had  such  a  happy  effect  upon 
my  heart,  that  I  have  ever  since  looked  upon  it  as  the 
principal  means  the  Almighty  was  pleased  to  employ  in 
bringing  about  my  thorough  conversion.  I  thought  I 
was  sitting,  a  little  before  daylight,  in  the  morning,  with 
my  deceased  brother,  on  the  wall  of  the  parish  church- 
yard, where  we  had  lived  many  years  together.  He  re- 
mained silent  for  sometime,  and  then  he  asked  me  if  1 


168  ANDREW    BURN. 

would  not  go  with  him  into  the  church.  I  readily  con- 
sented, and  immediately  rising  up,  walked  with  him  to- 
wards the  porch  or  outer  gate,  which  I  thought  was  very 
large  and  spacious ;  but  when  we  had  passed  through  it, 
and  came  to  the  mner  door  that  led  directly  into  the  body 
of  the  church,  some  way  or  other,  but  how  I  could  not 
well  conceive,  my  brother  slipt  in  before  me,  and  when 
I  attempted  to  follow,  which  I  was  all  eagerness  to  do, 
the  door,  which  slid  from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  like  those 
in  some  fortified  towns  on  the  continent,  was  instantly 
let  down  more  than  half  way,  so  that  I  now  found  it  re- 
quisite to  bend  myself  almost  double  before  I  could  possibly 
enter.  But  as  1  stooped  to  try,  the  door  continued  falling 
lower  and  lower,  and  consequently  the  passage  became  so 
narrow,  that  I  found  it  altogether  impracticable  in  that 
posture.  Grieved  to  be  left  behind,  and  determined  to 
get  in,  if  possible,  I  fell  down  on  my  hands,  and  tried  to 
squeeze  my  head  and  shoulders  through;  but  finding  my- 
self still  too  high,  1  then  kneeled  down,  crept,  wrestled, 
and  pushed  more  eagerly,  but  all  to  no  piupose.  Vexed 
to  the  last  degree,  yet  unwilling  to  be  left  outside,  1  came 
to  the  resolution  of  throwing  off  all  my  clothes,  and  crawl- 
ing like  a  worm ;  but  being  very  desirous  to  preserve  a 
fine  silk  embroidered  waistcoat,  v\rhich  I  had  brought  from 
France,  I  kept  that  on,  in  hopes  of  being  able  to  carry  it 
with  me.  Then  laying  myself  flat  on  m^''  face,  I  toiled 
and  pushed,  and  strove,  soiled  my  embroidered  waistcoat, 
but  could  not  get  in  after  all.  At  last,  driven  almost  to 
despair,  I  stripped  myself  entirely,  and  forced  my  body 
between  the  door  and  the  ground,  till  the  rough  stones 
and  the  gravel  tore  all  the  skin  and  flesh  upon  my  breast, 
and  (as  I  thought,)  covered  me  with  blood.  IndifTerent, 
however,  about  this,  and  perceiving  I  advanced  a  httle,  I 


ANDREW    BURN.  169 

continued  to  strive  and  squeeze,  with  more  violf  nee  than 
ever,  till  at  last  I  safely  got  thiough.  As  soon  as  I  stood 
upon  my  feet  on  the  inside,  an  invisible  hand  clothed  me 
in  a  long  white  robe ;  and  as  I  turned  round  to  view  the 
place,  1  saw  a  goodlj^  company  of  saints,  among  whom 
was  my  brother,  all  dressed  in  the  same  manner,  partak- 
ing of  the  Lord's  Supper.  I  sat  down  in  the  niidst  of 
them,  and  the  bread  and  wine  being  administered  to  me, 
I  felt  such  seraphic  joy,  such  celestial  ecstacy,  as  no  mor- 
tal can  express. 

1  heard  a  voice  call  me  three  times  by  name,  saying  I 
was  wanted  at  home.  My  joy  was  so  great  and  over- 
coming, that  it  soon  broke  asunder  the  silken  bands  of 
sleep,  and  made  me  start  up  in  my  bed,  singing  the  high 
praises  of  God. 

So  much  was  I  impressed  by  this  remarkable  dream, 
that  from  this  day  I  was  enabled  to  begin  an  entirely 
new  life,  which  (as  I  advanced  in  the  saving  knowledge 
of  divine  things)  proved  as  different  from  the  life  I  had 
led  for  several  years  back,  as  it  is  possible  any  two  oppo- 
sites  can  be.  Old  things  were  now  done  away,  and  all 
things  became  new.  Not  that  I  obtained  a  complete  vic- 
tory over  my  domineering  sins  all  at  once,  or  renounced 
all  my  false  opinions  in  one  day  ;  but  a  bitter  and  eternal 
war  was  instantly  declared  against  the  one,  and  as  God 
made  the  discovery  to  me,  I  let  go  the  other.  My  mind 
was  gradually  enlightened  to  comprehend  the  glorious 
and  important  truths  of  the  everlasting  gospel,  and  the 
eyes  of  my  understanding  were  so  opened  to  discern  spir- 
itual things,  that  I  now  read  my  Bible  with  winder  and 
astonishment.  1  paused  almost  at  every  sentence,  rumi- 
nating within  myself;  and  could  hardly  be  persuaded 
whether  or  not  I  had  ever  read  man^  of  the  passages  be- 


170  ANDREW    BURN. 

fore,  so  amazingly  were  they  opened,  and  so  very  differ- 
ent did  the  nrieaning  of  them  appear  to  be  from  what  I 
had  previously  apprehended.  The  sweet  and  comfortable 
impression  which  this  dream  left  upon  my  mind  for  many 
days,  encouraged  and  inspired  me  with  fresh  vigor  in  the 
pursuit  of  heavenly  things.  [  now  plainly  saw  that  I 
had  long  strayed  in  the  wilderness  of  error,  and  was  fully 
and  delightfully  convinced  the  good  Shepherd  had  found 
me  out,  and  was  determined  to  carry  me  back  again  to 
his  fold. 

But  what  is  very  astonishing,  I  did  not  yet  perceive 
any  sensible  drawings  of  affection  after  him,  or  feel  in  my 
heart  that  love  and  delight  which,  blessed  be  his  name! 
I  humbly  trust,  I  have  at  times  since,  sweetly  experi- 
enced. Nor,  till  nearly  a  year  afterwards,  did  I  rightly 
conceive,  in  any  adequate  degree,  what  was  meant  by  the 
intolerable  burden  of  sin.  But  as  the  Lord  increased  and 
strengthened  my  faith,  and  shed  abroad  his  love  in  my 
heart,  sin,  that  accursed  thing,  grew  blacker  and  blacker, 
till  at  last  the  sight  became  so  odious,  that  had  not  he  first 
very  tenderly  comforted  me,  I  never  could  have  borne 
what  I  felt  of  it  in  my  own  breast.  While  God  continu- 
ed gradually  to  initiate  me  in  the  divine  life,  and  gra- 
ciously condescended  to  give  me  brighter  discoveries  of 
his  redeeming  love,  my  spiritual  enemies  were  not  inac- 
tive. Many  secret  and  dangerous  snares  were  laid  to  en- 
trap my  soul,  and  hinder  my  progress  in  the  heavenly 
road ;  but  the  God  of  boundless  love  and  pity,  who  kindly 
beheld  my  critical  situation,  not  only  kept  them  from 
hurting  me,  but  exerted  in  my  behalf  that  power  which 
is  peculiar  to  himself,  of  bringing  good  out  of  evil. 

A  few  weeks  after  my  dream,  though  I  had  every  rea- 
son to  fear  bein^  sent  to  the  West  Indies,  (as  an  officer 


ANDREW    BURN.  171 

who  exchanged  duties  with  me  was,)  yet  the  Lord,  whose 
watchful  eye  was  over  me,  so  overruled  events,  that  I  was 
securel}'-  and  speedily  fixed  among  my  former  pious  friends 
and  acquaintance  at  Chatham,  and  to  my  great  joy  hap- 
pily united  to  the  person  I  had  loved  for  many  years :  in 
short,  ]  was  now  more  comfortably  settled  in  life  than  I 
had  ever  yet  been  ;  freed  from  the  pressure  of  poverty, 
and  a  number  of  other  worldly  cares  and  embarrassments 
to  which  I  had  long  been  exposed.  But  here  a  vigilant 
enemy  contrived  his  well-timed  scheme,  and  brought  it  to 
a  dreadful  length  ere  1  perceived  the  danger.  Wrapping 
me  round  in  the  comforts  of  this  world,  he  found  an  easy 
passage  to  my  corrupt  heart,  and  insensibly  drew  away 
my  affections  into  an  eager,  restless  desire  for  the  enjoj^- 
ment  of  these  poor  perishing  vanities.  So  deeply  was  my 
attention  at  last  engaged  in  this  pursuit,  and  so  effectually 
had  the  god  of  this  world  bUnded  the  eyes  of  my  under- 
standing, that  I  not  only  began  to  lose  a  relish  for  spirit- 
ual things,  and  the  believing  view  of  heavenly  objects, 
bdt  a  thick  veil  was  likewise  drawing  over  all  that  the 
Lord  had  just  been  doing  for  me ;  and  had  not  his  grace 
speedily  prevented,  I  had  undoubtedly  fallen  a  prey  to  the 
snare  of  the  enemy,  and  like  Demas,  should  entirely  have 
forsaken  the  cause  of  a  crucified  Savior.  But  I  was 
suddenly  aroused  from  my  spiritual  lethargy  by  a  friendly 
but  severe  stroke  of  his  rod ;  so  severe  that  to  this  day  I 
feel  the  smart  of  it  in  my  body,  and  probably  shall  carry 
the  marks  of  it  to  my  grave. 

It  was  nothing  more  at  first  than  a  little  swelling  on 
my  neck,  about  the  size  of  a  nut,  of  which,  for  some  time, 
I  took  little  or  no  notice,  imagining  it  would  go  away,  as 
it  came,  without  giving  me  any  pain  or  trouble.  But 
God,  seeing  it  was  high  time  to  afiiict  me,  used  this  swell- 


172  ANDREW    BURN. 

ing  as  a  rod,  causing  ii  to  increase  to  such  a  degree  that 
I  was  glad  to  have  recourse  to  medical  advice;  but  with- 
out effect. 

It  enlarged  inwardly,  and  gradual  y  spread  till  it  got 
below  the  clavicle,  or  collar  bone,  and  gave  rne  so  much 
pain,  that  1  was,  at  last,  obliged  to  undergo  the  excruciat- 
ing operation  of  having  it  cut  out ;  and,  after  all,  the  in- 
fected part  was  found  to  be  so  deep,  there  was  no  getting 
at  the  bottom  to  heal  it  by  any  outward  application.  It 
grew  worse  and  worse,  threw  me  every  now  and  then 
into  a  fever,  and  by  a  constant  and  copious  discharge 
emaciated  my  body,  and  reduced  me  to  so  low  a  state, 
that  all  who  saw  me  naturally  concluded  it  would  soon 
put  a  period  to  my  life.  In  this  crisis,  the  happy  effects 
which  a  God  of  love  intended  should  flow  from  this  afflic- 
tion, began  to  appear;  the  thoughts  of  death  in  my  pres- 
ent state,  lay  with  uncommon  weight  upon  my  mind,  and 
caused  such  deep  searchings  of  heart,  that  I  was  made 
willing  to  forsake  all  for  some  comfortable  hope  of  my 
eternal  bliss  by  Jesus  Christ.  The  world,  that  gilded 
vanity,  which  I  had  been  sinfully  hugging  in  my  bosom 
till  it  had  well  nigh  destroyed  me,  now  shrunk  from  my 
fond  embrace,  an  ug  y,  deformed  thing.  I  blushed,  to 
think  I  had  been  so  mean  as  to  place  my  affections  one 
moment  upon  it,  and  resolutely  determined  for  the  future, 
to  give  my  heart  entirely  to  God,  who  had  an  indisputa- 
ble right  to  it. 

The  finger  of  the  Lord  was  so  evidently  manifest  to 
me  in  this  affliction,  that  I  can  truly  say,  if  ever  I  was  in 
any  degree  thankful  for  any  of  his  mercies,  it  was  for 
this. 

At  first  indeed  it  was  grievous,  very  grievous  to  bear, 
but  as  soon  as  I  perceived  its  happy  effe  c ,  and  saw  the 


ANDREW    BURN.  17^ 

absolute  necessity  there  was  for  it,  (I  desire  to  speak  to 
the  glory  of  his  grace,)  I  really  in  some  measure  delighted 
in  my  pain ;  seemed  to  enjoy  it  as  a  valuable  thing,  and 
blessed  his  holy  name,  for  this  soul-satisfying  token  of 
his  fatherly  love  and  care. 

Yet,  strange  to  think,  so  strong  is  my  natural  propensi- 
ty to  doubt,  that  I  frequently  question  whether  God  ever 
loved  me  or  not.  Cursed  sin !  May  that  all-sufficient 
grace  which  has  upheld  me  hitherto,  now  give  me  an 
entire  dominion  over  it.  Surely  I,  of  all  men,  have  no 
reason  to  doubt  of  the  love  of  God,  were  I  only  to  allege 
this  affliction  as  a  proof  of  it.  When  my  wandermg  heart 
is  drawn  out  so  much  after  the  objects  of  time  and  sense, 
a  gentle  stroke  of  this  rod,  (which  is  still  suspended  over 
me,)  gives  the  friendly  warning,  puts  me  in  mind  of  my 
latter  end,  and  points  toward  heaven.  O  what  a  treasure 
is  sanctified  affliction  !  No  sooner  did  I  feel  the  happy 
effects  of  it  upon  my  soul  at  this  time,  than  I  began  with 
more  earnestness  than  ever,  to  seek  after  God.  I  longed 
for  close  communion  with  him  ;  I  delighted  in  his  courts, 
and  in  the  solemn  assemblies  of  the  more  select  company 
of  his  spiritual  worshippers.  In  short,  I  could  not  rest 
till  I  had  become,  in  a  more  intimate  and  public  manner, 
one  of  those  despised  people  whom,  a  few  months  before, 
I  had  looked  upon  with  pity  and  contempt,  as  ignorant 
fanatics,  deceiving  themselves  and  willing  to  deceive 
others.  The  people  of  God,  of  ever}'-  denomination,  poor 
or  rich,  now  became  to  me  "the  excellent  of  the  earth," 
in  whom  was  all  my  delight.  I  loved  them  from  my 
heart,  because  they  belonged  to  Christ,  and  bore  his 
image,  and  through  his  grace,  I  can  do  so  still.  I  have 
not  perceived  my  affection  for  them  abated,  and  humbly 
trust  I  never  shall. 
16 


174  ANDREW    BURN. 

Surely  nothing  less  than  divine  power  could  in  a  space 
of  a  few  months  have  thus  effectually  overthrown  the 
massive  bulwarks  of  infidelity,  which  Satan  had  been 
continually  strengthening  for  the  space  of  six  years  in 
my  corrupt  heart,  or  have  bent  my  vicious  and  stubborn 
will  to  embrace  the  self-abasing  doctrines  of  the  gospel. 
That  such  a  change  has  been  wrought,  1  am  as  certain, 
as  of  my  own  existence  ;  so  likewise  am  I  confident  that 
it  was  not  in  the  smallest  degree  attributable  to  any  in- 
herent strength  of  my  own.  God  alone  must  have  been 
the  author  of  it.     To  him  therefore  be  all  the  glory. 

Nothing  but  shame  and  confusion  belongs  to  me,  for 
having  so  ill-requited  a  God  of  such  boundless  compas- 
sion. He  has  done  great  things  for  me,  I  have  done  but 
little  for  him  in  return ;  yet  still  the  same  grace  that  began 
the  work,  has  I  trust  hitherto  carried  it  on ;  so  that  I  can 
say  with  the  Apostle,  "  By  the  help  of  God,  I  continue 
unto  this  day." 

Before  I  conclude  this  feeble  attempt  to  illustrate  the 
freeness  of  Jesus' s  love  to  the  most  undeserving  of  all  his 
creatures,  I  will  just  mention  some  marks  of  his  tenderness 
and  care,  which  in  great  condescension  he  deigned  to 
confer  upon  me,  after  he  had  mercifully  called  me 
from  the  tyranny  of  Satan  into  the  happy  freedom  of  the 
gospel. 

Sometime  before,  and  even  after,  I  had  joined  a  society 
of  Christians,  I  frequently  doubted  the  soundness  of  my 
conversion,  and  consequently  the  safety  of  my  state  from 
not  having  keenly  felt  what  I  so  often  heard  them  talk- 
ing about  —  terrors  of  conscience,  deep  convictions  of  sin, 
horrors  of  mind  on  account  of  the  impending  wrath  of 
God,  and  the  impossibility  of  entering  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  without  feeling  something  of  such  emotions.     It 


ANDREW    BURN.  175 

was  not  long  before  these  doubts  and  fears  were  gracious- 
\y  removed  :  but,  as  I  have  already  hinted,  in  proportion 
as  the  love  of  Christ  increased  in  my  soul,  a  deadly  hatred 
to  sin  was  excited.  I  gradually  saw  the  dreadful  conse- 
quences that  attended  it,  and  how  odious  it  was  in  the 
sight  of  a  pure  and  holy  God.  At  these  happy  seasons 
when  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  give  me  any  singular 
manifestations  of  his  love,  a  holy  tremor  seemed  to  seize 
me,  lest  I  should  do  anything  that  might  offend  him. 
Whenever  1  was  made  sensible  of  sinning,  either  by 
omission,  or  commission,  in  thought,  word,  or  deed,  the 
bitter  tears,  heavy  groans,  and  excruciating  pangs  of  soul 
I  went  through,  till  they  were  removed  by  a  believing 
view  of  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  our  Lord,  no  mortal  can 
conceive  but  those  who  have  experienced  something  of 
the  same  kind. 

And  to  this  day,  as  I  am  never  without  sin,  I  can  truly 
say  it  is  a  continual  source  of  sorrow  to  me.  It  is  a  heavy 
burden  under  which  1  should  sink,  if  I  did  not  experi- 
mentally know  that  Jesus  died  to  save  me  from  its 
reigning  power,  as  well  as  from  the  punishment  it 
deserves. 

As  I  have  every  reason  to  praise  God  for  these  favors,  so 
ought  I  to  bless  and  magnify  his  holy  name  as  the  hearer 
and  answerer  of  prayer  generally.  I  can  boldly  say  from 
my  heart,  I  have  truly  found  him  such,  and  never  more 
so  than  when  he  has  refused  a  direct  and  immediate  grant 
to  ray  petitions.  For  then  I  have  frequently  seen  in  the 
issue,  that  1  have  ten  times  more  reason  to  thank  him  for 
the  refusal  than  if  he  had  granted  me  what  I  asked.  I  will 
mention  one  instance  of  this  kind,  as  a  specimen  of  many, 
previously  observing  that  when  clear  views  of  divine 
truth  were  first  imparted  to  me,  I  frequently  prayed  that 


176  ANDREW    BURN. 

whenever  he  called  me  to  embark  in  a  man-of-war,  (that 
dreadful  abode  for  a  Christian,  which  I  had  long  inhabit- 
ed,) I  might  even  there  find  some  serious  person  to  con- 
verse with,  who  by  good  advice  and  a  pious  example, 
might  be  the  means  of  preventing  me  from  falling.  But 
this  prayer  I  had  for  sometime  neglected  to  offer  up,  and 
indeed  had  entirely  forgotten ;  though  God  had  not,  as 
will  be  seen  by  the  sequel.  About  forty  years  ago,  when 
I  was  a  subaltern  in  the  royal  marine  corps,  two  other 
officers  and  myself  were  ordered  to  embark,  one  in  each 
of  the  three  guard-ships  then  stationed  in  the  Medway. 
Two  of  them  lay  close  to  the  Dock-yard,  affording  at  all 
times  easy  access  to  the  shore:  but  the  other,  the  Resolu- 
tion of  74  guns,  was  moored  half-way  dov/n  the  river, 
towards  Sheerness,  from  whence  in  winter  and  bad 
weather,  it  was  troublesome  to  land,  and  sometimes  im- 
practicable. For  this  reason  it  was  natural  for  each  of 
us  to  wish  for  one  of  the  Chatham  ships,  and  strong  in- 
terest was  accordingly  made  by  us  respectively  with  the 
commanding  officer  for  this  purpose.  But  he,  finding  he 
must  necessarily  disoblige  one  of  the  three,  ordered  us  to 
attend  the  parade  next  morning,  and  draw  lots  for  our 
ships.  This  of  course  drove  me  to  my  strong  hold,  and  if 
I  ever  prayed  with  fervency  in  my  life,  it  was  now.  I 
pleaded  hard  with  the  Searcher  of  hearts,  that  he  knew 
my  chief  motive  for  desiring  one  of  the  Chatham  ships, 
that  I  might  constantly  attend  the  m.eans  of  grace,  and 
the  ordinances  of  his  house ;  and  I  felt  a  confidence  that 
if  I  really  was  a  child  of  God,  he  would  grant  my  re- 
quest—  since  the  "  lot  thus  cast  into  the  lap,"  was  wholly 
at  his  disposal !  The  important  morning  came,  and  I  drew 
the  dreaded  ship,  down  the  river. 

Had  I  drawn  my  death  warrant,  I  hardly  think  it  would 
have  affected  me  more. 


ANDREW    BrRN.  \17 

My  prayer  was  now  apparently  rejected,  and  the  enemy 
of  souls  taking  advantage  of  the  agitated  state  of  my  de- 
praved heart,  easily  made  me  draw  the  conclusion,  either 
that  I  was  no  Christian,  or  that  God  paid  no  attention  to 
those  who  professed  to  be  such.  In  this  gloomy  de- 
sponding state,  like  a  criminal  going  to  execution,  I  em- 
barked the  same  forenoon  in  His  Majesty's  ship  Resolu- 
tion, Ij^ing  in  a  dreary  part  of  the  Medway,  a  few  miles 
from  Sheerness. 

T  had  just  time  to  be  introduced  to  the  officers  in  the 
ward-room,  when  dinner  came  in. 

The  third  Lieutenant,  happening  to  be  entered  that 
week,  of  course  stood  up  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and 
asked  a  blessing;  but  with  so  much  seriousness  as  quite 
astonished  me  ;  for  being  well  acquainted  with  the  cus- 
toms of  the  ward-room  in  a  king's  ship,  I  had  never  heard 
anything  of  the  kind  so  solemnly  pronounced  there  before, 
and  I  determined  to  mark  every  word  which  proceeded  from 
that  gentleman's  lips,  in  the  hope  of  hearing  something 
that  might  enable  me  to  ascertain  his  character.  Nothing 
decisive  occurred  during  dinner ;  but  no  sooner  was  the 
wine  placed  on  the  table,  than  he  was  attacked  by  sever- 
al of  his  messmates  on  his  religious  sentiments,  and  I  soon 
discovered  that  he  bore  the  genuine  marks  of  a  true  Chris- 
tian, by  his  judicious  reproofs,  and  the  very  able  manner 
in  which  he  confuted  all  their  infidel  arguments.  Wishing, 
I  suppose,  to  know  what  spirit  I  was  of,  \\\ey  frequenth' 
appealed  to  rne  for  the  truth  of  what  they  advanced ;  but 
having  always  decided  against  them,  I  was  imperceptibly 
drawn  into  the  disputation  on  the  side  of  the  lieutenant. 
When  the  allowance  of  v.-ine  was  drunk,  (for  it  was  a 
sober  well  regulated  mess,)  the  purser  rose  and  broke  up 
the  company,  exclaiming  with  an  oath,  "  Our  new  mess- 
'*16 


178  ANDREW    BURN. 

mate  is  as  great  a  methodist  as  Tomlinson."*  I  smiled, 
well  pleased  to  be  associated  with  such  a  man.  As  two 
needles  touched  with  the  loadstone,  when  they  fall  near  to 
each  other  among  chaff,  will  soon  come  together,  so  this 
methodist  lieutenant  and  myself  speedily  came  into  con- 
tact. After  having  exchanged  a  few  questions,  we  went 
down  to  his  cabin  in  the  gun-room,  had  an  hour's  com- 
fortable conversation,  and  concluded  with  prayer,  although 
a  few  hours  before,  we  had  never  seen  one  another's  faces. 
This  singular  circumstance  could  not  fail  to  bring  to  my 
recollection,  the  prayer  I  had  so  culpably  forgotten,  now 
completely  granted,  and  I  began  to  be  reconciled  to  the 
ship  Providence  had  assigned  me ;  but  that  God,  who 
abounds  in  goodness,  and  delights  in  mercy,  never  confers 
his  favors  by  halves. 

A  few  days  had  hardly  elapsed,  when  an  order  came 
from  the  Admiralty,  to  send  the  Resolution  up  to  Chat- 
ham, and  one  of  the  ships  there  to  take  its  place.  This 
was  such  welcome  news  to  all  on  board,  that  lest  the 
order  should  be  countermanded,  we  obej^ed  it  the  same 
day ;  for  the  wind  and  tide  favoring,  we  weighed,  and 
came  to  an  anchor,  off  the  Dock-yard,  before  two  o'clock. 
Thus  my  prayer,  at  first  apparently  rejected,  was  now 
completely  answered;  but  it  was  the  Lord's  way.  Had 
mine  been  attended  to,  and  I  had  drawn  the  ship  that 
went  down  the  river,  I  should  have  been  miserable.  So 
true  it  is,  we  "  know  not  what  we  should  pray  for  as  we 
ought." 

As  God  had  thus  been  very  merciful  in  not  granting 
my  requests  in  my  own  way,  so  likewise  has  he  been  re- 

*  Lieutenant  Tomlinsun  was  a  pious,  sensible,  and  well  informed 
man,  then  well  known  in  the  Christian  world. 


ANDREW    BURN.  179 

markably  gracious  at  other  times  in  hearing  and  answer- 
ing my  petitions.  An  instance  or  two  will  be  sufficient 
to  establish  this  soul-comforting  truth.  Sometime  ago, 
finding  my  heart  and  affections,  (as  alas  !  1  too  frequently 
have  done  since,)  very  much  carried  away  after  the  per- 
ishing things  of  this  world,  my  zeal  abating,  and  my  love 
for  spiritual  things  growing  cold  and  languid,  and,  of 
course,  my  joy  and  peace  in  believing,  almost  entirely 
vanished,  I  tried  every  means  to  remove  the  growing 
evil;  went  from  duty  to  duty,  made  resolution  upon  reso- 
lution, wrestled  and  prayed,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  The 
love  of  the  world  seemed  to  prevail  over  the  love  of  Christ. 
At  last,  weighed  dov/n  under  the  heavy  burden,  and  al- 
most ready  to  give  over,  I  prayed  fervently  to  God,  that 
as  he  had  forruerly  blessed  afflictions  to  me  in  this  respect, 
I  should  now  be  willing,  Vv-ere  it  consistent  with  his  will, 
that  he  should  use  that  means  to  disentangle  my  heart 
from  the  world,  and  direct  it  to  the  proper  objects  of  its 
love.  The  very  next  day,  I  was  laid  up  with  a  fever  — 
and  before  I  recovered,  the  world  in  a  great  measure  lost 
for  a  time  its  alluring  charms.  I  am  far  from  justifying 
this  method  of  prescribing  to  the  Lord ;  but  in  this  instance 
it  appeared  evident  he  heard  my  prayer. 

At  another  time  I  prevailed  upon  one  of  my  brother 
officers,  a  most  notorious  swearer,  to  go  to  worship  with 
me,  and  we  had  just  sat  down  in  the  pew,  when  I  put  up 
a  mental  prayer  that  the  preacher  might  be  led  to  say 
something  against  swearing,  that  he  might  be  useful  to 
my  companion ;  and  while  I  endeavored  to  recollect 
some  text  of  Scripture,  that  was  against  this  vice,  the 
third  commandment  immediately  presented  itself  with 
full  force  to  my  mind.  I  thought,  if  this  were  but  pro- 
nounced with  solemn  energy  and  power  from  the  pulpit, 


180  ANDREW    BURN. 

what  good  might  it  not  do!  Accordingly,  toward  the 
end  ot'  the  sermon,  which,  by  the  bye,  seemed  quite  for* 
eign  from  what  1  had  been  meditating  upon,  the  preacher 
began  to  reprove  the  odious  vice  of  swearing,  and  was 
full  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  demonstrating,  with  uncommon 
eloquence  and  convincing  arguments,  its  sinfulness,  mean- 
ness, unprofitableness,  and  dangerous  consequences,  and 
at  last  concluded  by  repeating  the  third  commandment 
with  such  solemnity,  that  it  forced  the  whole  auditory 
into  the  most  serious  attention ;  while  I  rejoiced  to  think 
the  Lord  had  graciously  condecsended  to  hear  my  prayer, 
in  a  manner  so  admirably  calculated  to  impress  the  con- 
science of  my  profane  companion." 

The  preceding  narration  brings  down  the  author's  me- 
moir, to  tlie  month  of  April,  1772.  He  had  then  reached 
his  thirtieth  year,  and  held  the  commission  of  Lieutenant 
of  marmes.  When  the  war  broke  out  between  Great 
Britain  and  her  North  American  Colonies,  he  was  sent  to 
this  country  with  an  expedition,  and  arrived  in  Boston 
harbor,  just  after  Gen.  Gage  had  been  compelled  to  evac- 
uate the  town.  He  remained  but  a  short  time  upon  the 
American  station  ;  and  not- long  after  his  return  to  Eng- 
land, was  sent  out  to  India,  whence  he  returned  in  poor 
health  sooner  than  he  had  expected.  Subsequently  he 
sailed  to  Newfoundland,  and  was  from  time  to  time  after 
his  return,  employed  in  various  short  expeditions,  cruises 
and  commands,  till  by  a  regular  series  of  promotions  he 
was  made  Col.  Commandant  at  Woolwich :  and  he  was 
ultimately  raised  to  the  rank  of  Major  General  in  the 
Army.  He  kept  a  diary  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
time,  which  abounds  with  pious  reflections,  and  striking 
notices  of  the  good  hand  of  God,  which  was  ^everywhere 


ANDREW    BURN.  181 

over  him  ;  and  from  which  it  appears  that  he  carried  his 
rehgion  along  with  him,  in  all  his  expeditions ;  and  was 
enabled,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  hold  fast  his  integrity, 
and  whenever  occasion  required,  to  "  contend  earnestly  for 
the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints."  At  first,  indeed, 
his  moral  courage  was  put  to  the  severest  test,  as  nearly 
all  of  his  brother  officers  were  inclined  to  look  with  pity 
and  contempt  upon  that  tenderness  of  conscience,  and 
humbleness  of  mind  which  characterize  the  consistent 
believer ;  and  it  needed  more  firmness,  no  doubt,  to  meet 
their  raillery,  than  to  march  up  to  an  enemy's  bcUtery. 
But  when  they  saw  he  was  not  to  be  moved,  they  appear 
to  have  discontinued  their  attacks,  and  unquestionably 
respected  him  infinitely  more  than  they  would  have  done, 
had  he  cowardly  given  up  his  Christian  armor,  and  proved 
disloyal  to  the  great  '  Captain  of  salvation.' 

In  the  latter  part  of  his  life.  General  Burn  cnjoj'ed 
much  leisure,  which  he  improved,  as  far  as  his  precarious 
health  would  permit,  in  the  service  of  his  divine  Master. 
Several  tracts  which  he  wrote,  for  the  benefit  of  seamen, 
were  widely  circulated,  and  we  have  no  doubt,  did  much 
good.  He  died  in  1814,  at  the  advanced  age  of  seventj'- 
two.  What  were  his  views  and  hopes,  in  the  near  pros- 
pect of  exchanging  worlds,  will  sufficiently  appear  from 
the  following  brief  extracts,  with  which  we  close  this  bio- 
graphical notice. 

Speaking  of  a  severe  illness  which  threatened  his  life, 
in  1810,  he  says,  'In  these  trying  moments,  the  soul  is 
called  upon  to  prepare  for  death;  but  if  it  has  not  been 
prepared  before,  it  has  chosen  the  very  worst  period  to 
think  of  such  a  vast  concern.  Who  can  reflect  with 
composure,  when  pain  torments  the  body,  and  fever  de- 
presses the  spirits  ?     If  I  was  not  prepared  to  die  nearly 


182  ANDREW    BURN. 

forty  years  ago,  I  never  shall  be.  When  my  only  hope 
and  sole  dependence  was  upon  Jesus  Christ  and  his  fin- 
ished salvation,  his  atoning  blood  and  perfect  righteous- 
ness —  so  it  is  at  this  moment.  And  so  I  hope  it  will  be, 
when  God  shall  please  to  call  me  hence.  If  he  is  pleased 
to  smile  upon  me,  a  poor  sinner,  in  my  dying  moments,  I 
will  bless  his  name  —  if  not,  I  will  cling  to  the  Rock  of 
ages,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 

To  his  daughter  he  said,  with  the  most  tender  affection, 
a  few  days  before  his  death,  '  I  hope  I  shall  meet  you  in 
heaven.'  To  the  clergyman  who  attended  him  he  de- 
clared with  much  feeling,  that  the  atoning  blood  and  jus- 
tifying righteousness  of  Christ,  were  the  sole  foundation, 
on  which  he  built  his  hopes  of  everlasting  happiness. 

On  Sabbath  morning,  Sept.  1 8,  his  friends  saw  that  the 
symptoms  of  death  were  upon  him,  and  he  was  asked,  if 
he  wished  to  see  any  one  in  particular?  He  replied  with 
much  emphasis,  '  nobody,  nobody  but  Jesus  Christ  — 
Christ  crucified  is  the  stay  of  my  poor  soul.'  These  were 
the  last  words  he  uttered ;  and  at  half  past  nine,  he  gen- 
tly breathed  his  last,  and,  according  to  his  desire  and 
prayer,  went  to  worship  that  Sabbath  in  heaven. 


CHAPTER    V. 
MR.    CHARLES    MARTYR. 

FAITH    LEADING    TO    WORKS. 

Ml*.  Charles  Martyr  was  born  at  Greenwich,  on  the 
6th  of  August,  1792,  and  entered  his  Majesty's  Navy  in 
1807,  as  a  clerk,  on  board  the  Prince  of  Wales.  His  in- 
defatigable attention  to  the  duties  of  his  office,  procured 
for  him  an  appointment  to  act  as  purser  of  the  Centurion 
fifty  guns;  when  he  had  not  attained  the  age  of  seven- 
teen years.  In  the  numberless  temptations  incident  to 
the  naval  service,  he  yielded  less,  perhaps,  than  most  oth- 
ers have  done  ;  for  he  possessed  no  small  share  both  of  dis- 
cretion and  of  moral  courage. 

Mr.  Martyr  was  a  dutiful  and  tender  son ;  and  as  a 
brother,  he  was  extremely  affectionate.  He  was  alwa3'S 
respectful  to  his  superiors,  obliging  to  his  equals,  and  kind 
and  condescending  to  the  humblest  individual.  All  these 
excellent  qualities  may  indeed  be  said  to  have  '  grown 
with  his  growth ;'  and  few  young  men  have  ever  been 
more  generally  respected  and  beloved. 

In  giving  this  account  of  Mr.  Martyr's  disposition  and 
character,  no  panegyric  is  intended.  On  the  contrary,  it 
is  expressly  designed  to  show  —  what,  as  will  be  present- 


184  CHARLES    MARTYR. 

\y  seen  from  his  own  papers,  he  was  himself  most  anxious 
to  inculcate  —  that  all  these  moral  qualities,  however  es- 
timable in  themselves,  may,  and  often  do,  exist  in  a  heart 
which  has  not  advanced  a  single  step  towards  '  the  one 
thing  needful ; '  and  that  he  whom  the  world  calls  '  amia- 
ble' may,  as  regards  the  religion  for  which  Christ  lived 
on  earth,  and  the  redemption  to  procure  which  he  died, 
have  neither  '  part  nor  lot  in  the  matter.' 

From  Halifax,  whither  he  had  gone  as  secretary  to  Ad- 
miral Griffith,  he  was  suddenly  called  to  England,  on 
account  of  his  father's  death,  in  1816.  This  event  seems 
to  have  imparted  a  tone  of  seriousness  to  his  mind, 
somewhat  deeper  than  had  before  been  observed,  though 
no  abiding  religious  impression  was  yet  made  upon  his 
heart.  From  the  death  of  a  beloved  wife,  which  took 
place  in  1818,  may  be  dated  that  more  decided  change  in 
his  character  which  is  indicated  in  the  following  extract 
of  a  letter  to  his  eldest  son. 

'  It  is  now  nearly  five  years  since  I  commenced  my  in- 
quiry and  search  after  religious  truth ;  and,  although  I 
have  availed  myself  of  the  writings  of  many  able  and  pi* 
ous  men,  the  Bible,  I  can  assure  you,  has  been  the  grand 
mine  I  have  worked  ;  and  I  trust  I  have  done  so  in  God's 
own  appointed  way. 

I  know,  my  dear  boy,  that  as  the  holy  Scriptures^ were 
at  first  dictated  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  so  do  they  now  owe 
their  effects  and  influence  to  the  Spirit's  operations ;  for  the 
things  of  the  Spirit,  as  the  Apostle  says,  are  spiritually 
discerned. 

It  is  through  a  disregard  to  this  grand  consideration, 
that  many  men,  who  by  study  apprehend  well  enough 
the  letter  and  grammatical  sense  of  the  Scriptures,  are 


CHARLES    MARTYR.  185 

still  without  its  power  and  energy  upon  their  hearts. 
Thus  their  heads  are  full  while  their  hearts  are  barren; 
and  what  to  the  humble  inquirer,  who,  by  constant  prayer 
for  the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  by  searching  for 
religious  knowledge  as  for  hidden  treasures,  becomes 
the  savor  of  life  unto  life  :  becomes  to  the  man,  who,  wise 
in  his  own  conceit,  leans  to  his  own  understanding,  the 
savor  of  death  unto  death. 

It  has  been  with  this  strong  conviction  upon  my  mind 
that  I  have  constantly  prayed  for  a  teachable  spirit.  I 
have  prayed,  my  dear  boy,  that  all  my  prejudices  might 
die,  and  that  with  the  spirit  of  a  child  I  might  receive 
instruction.  In  this  spirit  have  I  incessantly  applied  to 
the  Fountain  Head  for  that  wisdom  which  is  from  above  ; 
and  having  the  positive  assurance  from  him  who  cannot 
lie,  that  if  any  man  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God, 
who  giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not,  and 
it  shall  be  given  him  ;  and  that  he  was  to  ask  in  faith, 
nothing  wavering  ;  I  have  been  enabled  to  persevere  from 
time  to  time,  never  for  an  instant  doubting  that  I  should 
eventually  be  led  to  understand  all  that  is  necessary  for 
my  salvation.  And,  as  my  prayer  has  also  invariably 
been  for  that  peace  and  joy  in  believing  which  the  Scrip- 
tures speak  of,  I  have  likewise  fully  assured  myself,  that 
whenever  it  should  please  God  to  open  my  eyes  to  a  full 
acquaintance  with  divine  truth,  I  should  possess  a  joy 
which  the  world  could  neither  give  nor  take  away.  In 
neither  instance  have  I  been  disappointed. 

When  I  was  first  told,  my  dear  child,  that  my  religion, 
respectable  as  it  seemed  in  my  own  eyes,  and  in  the  esti- 
mation of  most  of  my  acquaintance,  was  heartless,  and 
that  I  was  trusting  more  in  myself  that  I  was  righteous, 
than  in  the  merits  and  atonement  of  Jesus  Christ,  for  my 
17 


186  CHARLES    MARTYR. 

salvation,  I  was  angry ;  I  denounced  the  young  friend 
who  whispered  it  in  my  ear,  which  she  did  with  meek 
kindness,  as  a  fool,  an  enthusiast,  a  methodist. 

She,  however,  mildly  persevered,  assuring  me  that  she 
knew  enough  of  me,  fully  to  convince  her  that  I  should 
eventually  agree  with  her  upon  all  essential  points.  She 
simply,  but  firmly,  told  me  my  creed  was  imperfect ;  that 
I  had  a  respect  for  religion  in  the  abstract,  and  for  its  or- 
dinances, but  that  1  was  satisfied  with  the  form,  without 
the  power  of  godliness.  I  was  really  provoked,  accused 
her  of  presumption,  and  heaped  all  manner  of  charges 
upon  her. 

She  never  attempted  to  retort,  nor  lost,  for  a  moment, 
her  temper ;  but  assured  me  that  she  had  foreseen  all  this 
storm,  and  willingly  incurred  it,  in  the  hope  that  I  might 
at  all  events  be  shaken  from  indifference ;  adding,  that 
she  was  far  from  wishing  me  to  adopt,  what  I  called,  her 
notions  on  the  subject:  she  merely  wished  me  to  satisfy 
myself  from  the  word  of  God  that  my  hope  of  heaven  was 
rightl}^  placed  ;  and  she  assured  me,  that  all  my  conver- 
sation with  her  would  never  lead  to  this  end. 

She  said  very  impressively,  '  My  dear  Mr.  Martyr,  we 
are  nearly  connected  ;  we  have  lived  for  some  years  happy 
in  each  other's  acquaintance,  and  on  terms  of  most  affec- 
tionate intercourse.  You  and  my  dear  sister,  are  now 
taking  your  leave  of  us,  never,  I  fear,  to  meet  again  in 
this  world.  Will  you  make  me  one  parting  promise? 
that  is,  not  to  tmst  in  flesh  and  blood  on  this  important 
point !  Trust  not  to  the  word  of  man,  but  seek  that  wis- 
dom which  can  alone  make  you  wise  unto  salvation,  and 
which  is  only  to  be  found  in  the  Holy  Scriptures :  pray 
for  the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which  is  promised  to 
all  who  ask  it ;  and,  rely  upon  it,  your  labor  will  not  be  in 
vain  in  the  Lord.' 


CHARLES    MARTVR.  187 

After  urging  various  appropriate  and  heart-searching 
inquiries,  she  continued. 

'  The  first  of  my  questions  can  easily  be  answered,  — 
Do  you  feel  at  this  moment  prepared  to  die  ?  I  know 
you  do  not,'  she  added  ;  and  1  knew  so  too.  She  then 
pressed  again  and  again,  that  I  should  commence  that 
inquiry  which  I  have  since  carried  on.  And  here  let  me 
praise  the  Lord  that  1  have  been  brought  to  a  knowledge 
of  his  word,  and  this  by  a  medium  that  in  the  outset 
seemed  so  little  likely  to  lead  to  such  a  heavenly  consum- 
mation. 

When  I  began  seriously  to  inquire  in  respect  to  my 
salvation,  I  knew,  at  least  I  have  been  told,  and  I  did  not 
disbelieve  it,  that  the  oblation  of  Christ  once  offered  had 
been  received  as  a  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  the  whole 
world  ;  and  that  it  was  sufficient  to  accomplish  such  gene- 
ral redemption,  I  could  not  doubt ;  yet  I  had  but  to  look  into 
the  world,  and  into  my  Bible,  to  satisfy  me  that,  although 
sufficient,  it  was  not  effectual,  efficient  to  that  end  ;  for  if 
so,  all  mankind  in  a  mass,  saints  and  sinners,  were  equally 
safe,  and  when  this  hfe  should  cease,  the  joys  of  heaven 
-would  be  equally  the  property  of  the  humble  sincere 
Christian,  and  of  the  impenitent  infidel  and  sinner. 

Then  there  was  pressed  upon  my  mind  the  conviction, 
that  to  secure  a  personal  interest  in  the  great  sacrifice,  to 
secure  my  own  adoption  into  the  general  family  of  God, 
religion  must  become  a  personal  thing  with  me. 

I  could  not,  it  is  true,  accuse  myself  very  recently  of 
any  serious  crimes ;  but  when  I  carefully  reviewed  my 
whole  past  life,  and  traced  the  spirituality  and  extent  of 
God's  law,  from  how  few  of  the  long  black  catalogue  of 
transgressions  could  I  escape  judgment  ?  It  was  then 
that,  burdened  with  the  weight  of  what  the  word  of  God 


188  CHARLES    MARTYR. 

loudly  designated  my  sins,  I  was  led  in  spirit  and  in  truth 
to  adopt  the  general  confession  of  our  church  service.  I 
felt  that  I  had  erred,  and  strayed  from  God's  ways;  that 
I  had  left  undone  those  things  which  I  ought  to  have 
done ;  and  that  I  had  done  those  things  which  I  ought 
not  to  have  done ;  and  that  there  was  no  spiritual  health 
in  me ;  and  I  could  have  no  doubt  as  to  what  my  ulti- 
mate end  must  be,  unless  some  means  of  escape  could  be 
discovered  from  the  heavy  condemnation  that  awaited 
me.  When  I  looked  at  myself,  I  was  dismayed.  I  at- 
tempted to  ease  my  conscience  by  striking  a  balance  be- 
tween my  supposed  good  works  and  my  sins;  but,  I  thank 
God,  a  death-knell  to  this  delusive  system  was  struck  by 
the  heart-searching  law  of  God,  and  its  denunciation, 
'  Cursed  are  all  they  that  continue  not  in  all  things,  to 
do  them.'  I  could  find  nothing  in  the  Bible,  to  support 
such  a  system ;  and  by  the  holy  law  of  God,  I  felt  my- 
self a  perishing  sinner. 

In  such  a  dilemma,  with  what  healing  did  the  gospel 
of  our  blessed  Savior  light  upon  my  troubled  conscience  I 
What  balm  did  my  almost  broken  heart  receive,  in  the  as- 
surances of  our  Redeemer,  '  Those  who  come  unto  me,  I 
will  in  no  wise  cast  out.'  '  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that 
labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.' 
'  Whosoever  believeth  in  me,  shall  not  perish,  but  have 

rlasting  life,'  and  numerous  others  equally  encour- 
aging. I  read  the  Scriptures  daily ;  and  I  prayed  God 
to  give  me  an  understanding  that  I  might  spiritually  dis- 
cern the  truths  which  they  contained,  and  which  were 
essential  to  my  salvation.  God  had  promised,  (and  he  is 
not  a  man  that  he  should  lie,  or  the  Son  of  man  that  he 
should  repent,)  that  he  would  be  known  of  them  that 
sought  him  —  tiiat  he  would  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them 


cBarles  martyr*  189 

that  asked  him.  I  felt  that  1  needed  wisdom ;  but  I  knew 
that  St.  James  had  said,  *  If  any  man  lack  wisdom  let 
him  ask  of  God,  who  giveth  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not, 
and  it  shall  be  given  him.'  Hence,  I  not  only  prayed 
for  wisdom,  while  I  searched  the  Scriptures,  but  I  did  it 
with  a  confidence  that  1  should  receive  it,  for  God  had 
promised ;  and  hence  too  I  prayed  for  the  inspiration  of 
his  Holy  Spirit,  that  I  might  more  perfectly  love  him, 
and  more  worthily  magnify  his  holy  name  for  Jesus 
Christ's  sake. 

I  really  felt  the  desire  to  sing  unto  the  Lord,  and  hear- 
tily to  rejoice  in  the  strength  of  my  salvation,. 

We  know  that  the  Son  of  God  has  ascended  into  heav- 
en, and  sits  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  in  the  character  of 
a  Mediater  and  Advocate  for  those  who  trust  their  cause 
entirely  to  his  keeping ;  and  what  has  the  humble-mind- 
ed Christian  to  fear?  Nothing,  but  the  fear  of  offending 
God!  I  know  my  sinfulness;  but  I  am  trusting  exclu- 
sively for  pardon  to  the  merits  and  death  of  my  Redeemer. 

If  I  am  endeavoring,  (and  I  trust  I  am,)  to  walk  close- 
ly with  my  God,  and  to  live  in  love  and  charity  with  all 
mankind,  I  feel,  after  I  have  done  all,  that  I  am  a  very 
unprofitable  servant ;  and  if  Satan  ever  tempts  me  to  look 
to  myself  as  deserving  something  good  at  the  hands  of 
God,  it  is  then  that  I  am  most  in  danger;  —  then  my 
comfort  is  at  its  lowest  ebb.  But  when  1  approach  God, 
as  a  penitent  sinner,  asking  for  spiritual  blessings  for  the 
sake  of  Jesus  Christ,  then  do  I  know  there  will  be  no  re- 
fusal ;  for  God  has  pledged  himself  to  receive  ail  who 
come  to  him  through  Christ ;  and  Christ  on  his  part  has 
fulfilled  and  set  seal  to  the  covenant  by  his  death  and  res- 
urrection. 

How  complete,  then,  is  the  Christian  dispensation  !    It 
•17 


190  CHARLES    MARTVR. 

is  this  fullness  —  this  all-sufficiency,  that  emboldens  me ; 
and  having  this  joy  and  rejoicing  in  my  heart  —  oh  I 
what  manner  of  person  should  I  be." 

Mr.  Martyr  felt  at  once  that  he  had  a  great  work  to  do, 
in  the  service  of  his  new  Master. 

Never,  perhaps,  were  Christian  faith  and  Christian 
practice  more  entirely  united  than  in  his  case.  Finding 
public  employment  was  unattainable,  he  anxiously  looked 
round  for  some  opportunity  of  occupying,  with  advantage 
to  his  fellow  creatures,  the  leisure  this  afforded  him.  "  I 
feel  confident,"  said  he  to  a  friend,  "  that  no  person  can 
move  in  so  contracted  a  sphere,  or  possess  means  of  use- 
fulness so  limited,  as  not  to  be  able  to  do  much  good. 
For  my  part,  I  am  convinced  that  my  present  leisure  is 
not  given  me  for  nothing. 

Others  have  riches,  or  rank,  or  power,  or  great  abilities, 
for  the  use  or  abuse  of  which  they  must  one  day  give  a 
solemn  account. 

All  /have  to  give  is  time:  this  is,  indeed,  but  'one 
talent,'  but  that  one  must  not  be  hid  in  the  eanh." 

Accordingly,  Mr.  Martyr  commenced  a  regular  system 
of  charitable  visits,  from  which,  not  even  his  own  weak 
and  precarious  state  of  health  could  ever  deter  him,  ex- 
cept when  he  was  absolutely  confined  to  his  bed  ;  and 
from  that  time  it  may  be  literally  said,  that,  in  imitation 
of  the  blessed  martyr  whom  he  loved  and  served,  he  '  went 
about  doing  good.'  His  was  not  that  sensibility  which 
can  weep  at  the  perusal  of  some  fictitious  tale  of  wo,  and 
yet  shrink  from  the  real,  every  day  sorrows  of  a  wretched 
fellow  creature.  He  never  heard  of  a  case  of  distress 
within  his  reach,  that  he  did  not  in  person  visit  the  un- 
happy object,  and  endeavor  to  administer  some  balm  to 


CHARLES    MARTYR.  191 

his  afflictions.  No  hovel  was  too  mean  for  him  to  enter, 
no  bed  too  wretched  to  sit  beside,  where  either  pecuniary 
aid  was  required  to  secure  the  necessaries  of  this  life,  or 
spiritual  exhortation  wanting  to  turn  a  dying  sinner  to 
repentance.  His  own  pecuniary  resources  being  very 
scanty,  he  exerted  himself  unremittingly  in  obtaining, 
from  persons  better  able  to  afford  it,  the  means  of  doing 
good.  The  peculiar  talent  which  he  possessed  of  recom- 
mending to  the  notice  and  sympathy  cf  others,  any  de- 
serving objects  of  charity,  and  thus  drawing  forth  from 
all  who  heard  him  some  little  contribution  towards  their 
relief,  will  long  be  remembered  with  delight,  and  ought 
to  be  regarded  as  an  example,  by  all  who  knew  him. 
The  sums  he  thus  collected  were  usually  small,  seldom 
exceeding  a  few  shillings  from  any  individual  at  one 
time;  and  yet  such  was  the  persevering  industry  with 
which  he  pursued  his  object,  that  in  the  year  1823,  his 
accounts,  in  which  he  was  extremely  regular,  contained 
more  than  .€200,  thus  collected  by  himself  within  twelve 
months,  and  judiciously  applied  to  charitable  purposes. 

He  was  also  an  active  co-operator  in  the  labors  of  the 
benovolent  societies  in  his  vicinity. 

Mr.  Mart3''r's  zeal  and  judgment  were  no  less  conspic- 
uous in  availing  himself  of  every  favorable  opportunity 
for  introducing  into  ordinary  conversation  the  all-impor- 
tant subjects  of  religion.  He  did  this  in  language  at 
once  energetic  and  uncompromising,  yet  without  that  in- 
discreet and  intrusive  forwardness  which  sometimes  injures 
the  high  cause  it  is  meant  to  serve. 

His  disposition  was  so  cheerful,  his  manner  so  mild 
and  conciliating,  and  every  pious  thought  appeared  to 
come  so  warmly  from  his  heart,  that  the  attention  of  even 
the  most  indifferent  hearer  was  for  a  while  arrested  by 
what  he  said  on  religious  subjects. 


192  CHARLES    MARTYR. 

In  visiting  the  poor,  he  was  most  earnest  and  indefat- 
igable in  endeavors  to  better  their  spiritual  condition  ;  al- 
ways carrying  to  their  houses  some  copies  of  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures, and  various  religious  tracts,  for  distribution,  and  fre- 
quently occupyuig  several  hours  in  a  day  in  reading  to 
those  who,  either  from  infirmity,  or  want  of  education, 
were  unable,  without  such  assistance,  to  enjoy  this  privi- 
lege. 

Much  might  be  added  to  the  extracts  alreadj^  given 
from  Mr.  Martj-r's  valuable  papers ;  but  it  is  necessary, 
that  1  should  hasten  to  offer  some  brief  account  of  the  last 
few  months  of  his  Hfe,  and  especially  of  its  closing  scene. 
In  April,  1825,  he  obtained  the  appointment  of  Purser  to 
the  '  Ordinary'  at  Chatham,  which,  together  with  the 
society  of  several  warm  and  pious  friends  in  that  neigh- 
borhood, once  more  held  out  to  him  a  prespect  of  inde- 
pendence and  worldly  comfort.  In  the  course  of  that 
summer,  hov/ever,  the  disease  with  which  he  had  been  so 
long  afflicted,  began  to  exhibit  still  more  dangerous  symp- 
toms, an  internal  abscess  having  evidently  been  formed, 
leaving  little  hope  of  ultimate  recovery.  Fully  aware  as 
he  was  of  his  own  state,  for  several  months  previous  to 
his  decease,  his  pious  cheerfulness  never  forsook  him. 
Even  in  the  midst  of  bodily  anguish,  he  constantly  ex- 
erted himself  in  sustaining  the  spirits  of  his  much  loved 
relations,  and  never  was  he  heard  to  utter  a  single  mur- 
mur or  complaint  on  his  own  account.  If,  with  a  mind 
so  habitually  prepared  for  death,  any  earthly  thought 
could  have  occasioned  his  distress,  it  must  have  been  the 
prospect  of  leaving  his  family  in  a  world  so  full  of  sin  and 
sorrow.  But  such  was  the  strength  by  which  he  was 
mercifully  supported  in  this  prospect,  that  even  this  could 
not  rob  him  of  the  Christian's  peace  and  consolation  in  the 


CHARLES    MARTYR.  19S 

approach  of  dissolution.  With  the  writer  of  this  memoir 
he  conversed  frequentlj^  and  unreservedly  upon  this  sub- 
ject, and  alvvaj^s  with  a  calmness  which  none  but  a  sin- 
cere believer  can  experience  at  such  a  crisis. 

"  With  respect  to  myself,"  said  he,  "  blessed  be  God,  I 
have  not  a  single  doubt  remaining.  I  trust  —  I  feel  that 
I  am  ready  to  depart.  Nor  do  I  experience  any  appre- 
hension concerning  those  so  dear  to  me  on  earth  ;  for  he 
without  whose  permission  not  even  a  sparrow  falleth  to 
the  ground,  has  graciously  assured  us  that  his  reasonable 
creatures  are  of  m.ore  value  than  many  sparrows :  and  to 
his  care  and  guidance  I  leave  them  without  fear  or  dis- 
trust." 

Thus  prepared  for  death,  he  received  its  final  summons 
with  composure,  and  even  with  joy.  After  various  atten- 
uations of  pain  and  comparative  relief,  the  abscess  at 
length  burst  on  the  7th  of  December,  producing  for  some 
days  constant  and  exquisite  suffering,  as  w^ell  as  increas- 
ing emaciation  and  debility.  The  rest  will  be  best  told  in 
the  words  of  an  affecting  funeral  sermon  preached  on  the 
occasion  of  his  death,  by  an  eminently  pious  clergyman, 
who  had  long  known  and  appreciated  his  excellence,  and 
was  constantly  near  him  throughout  his  last  illness. 

"  During  his  last  hours,  he  was  calm  and  full  of  hope; 
he  had  joy  in  his  expected  rest. 

The  way  was  rough  and  painful  to  his  mortal  frame  ; 
but  he  knew  that  he  had  in  heaven  a  better  and  an  en- 
during substance.  Such  blessed  knowledge  comforts,  re- 
freshes, and  fills  the  soul ;  it  raises  a  man  above  himself. 
Every  trial  of  the  Christian  is  assuredly  appointed  by  God 
in  love  and  mercy. 

If  he  chastens,  he  sustains,  and  refines  when  he  tries. 
When  faith  is  in  lively  exercise,  it  will  bear  a  man  above 


194  CHARLES    MARTYR. 

great  distresses ;  for  it  er^ables  him  to  discern  a  merciful 
providence,  sure  promises,  and  a  faithful  God.  It  was 
this  which  sustained  our  departed  brother.  No  complaint 
was  ever  heard  to  escape  from  his  lips.  He  was  fully 
aware  of  the  near  approach  of  his  dissolution  :  he  said,  *  I 
am  dying,  I  am  going  to  leave  you ;  but  I  am  prepared 
for  the  event  —  I  am  happy ! '  He  desired  his  friends 
around  him  to  pray  that  he  might  be  dismissed  to  his  rest. 
He  said  himself.  Lord  Jesus,  come  near  unto  me  ;  and,  if 
it  be  thy  will,  release  me !  He  exhorted  those  around 
him,  as  his  last  hour  approached,  to  be  reconciled  with 
God,  and  expressed  his  earnest  wish  that  his  children 
should  be  brought  up  in  his  fear.  He  repeatedly  said, 
with  great  energy,  '  No  pain,  and  no  fears.'  He  clasped 
his  hands  together,  and  exclaimed,  '  Come,  come.'  His 
whole  manner  was  marked  by  an  anxious  desire  to  relieve 
the  minds  of  those  about  him. 

Nothing  could  be  more  peaceful  than  his  final  dissolu- 
tion. For  the  last  three  or  four  hours  he  seemed  to  be 
dying,  but  life  again  appeared.  At  length,  however,  his 
happy  spirit  was  released,  and  returned  to  God  who  gave 
it  Thus,  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-three  years,  this  faith- 
ful servant  of  God  •'  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.'  " 


CHAPTER    VI. 
MR.    WILLIAM    HOWARD. 

THE    RUINED    OUTCAST    SAVED. 

•'  I  had  my  descent  from  parents  of  the  church  of  Eng- 
land, and  was  born  in  Westmeath,  in  the  kingdom  of  Ire- 
land, in  the  year  1721.  My  father  died  at  the  good  old 
age  of  seventy,  while  I  was  yet  young.  He  was  a  re- 
putable farmer,  a  person  of  great  modesty,  temperance, 
decency  of  conduct,  and  the  strictest  honesty.  Though 
he  gave  abundantly  to  the  poor,  his  substance  increased. 
The  Lord  prospered  him  in  his  undertakings;  he  took 
great  pains  to  bring  up  his  children  in  the  fear  of  God, 
bestowing  on  us  what,  in  his  eyes,  at  least,  was  a  liberal 
education.  Alas  !  neither  his  care  nor  his  example  had 
the  desired  effect  on  me.  To  lie  and  to  swear  were  lea- 
sons  I  had  but  too  great  a  docility  in  acquiring  ;  my  heart 
burnt  with  unholy  passions,  before  I  reached  my  sixteenth 
year,  nor  did  I  omit  any  opportunity  of  gratifying  them, 
being  satisfied  if  I  could  hide  from  man,  seldom  consider- 
ing that  God's  all-seeing  eye  was  upon  me;  yet  my  con- 
science at  times  rebuked  me  severely,  well  knowing  that 
I  was  breaking  the  commands  of  God. 

In  1741,  I  married  the  only  daughter  of  a  wealthy 


196  WILLIAM    HOWARD. 

tallow-chandler  and  soap-boiler  in  the  town  of  Drogheda. 
I  lived  with  my  father-in-law  till  his  death,  learned  his 
business  and  in  light  of  my  wife,  became  heir  to  his  for- 
tune. 

My  wife  died  in  1745,  and  within  two  years  I  married 
again,  an  heiress  as  before,  by  whom  I.  obtained  a  consid- 
erable fortune.  1  was  thus  enabled  to  enlarge  the  sphere 
of  my  business,  which  I  now  carried  on  with  considerable 
success.  In  1755,  I  was  sworn  in  mayor  of  Drogheda, 
I  now  indulged  in  riotous  excesses,  which  brought  on 
that  puuishment  which  Providence  has,  in  the  natural 
course  of  things,  connected  with  intemperance.  Before 
the  year  of  my  magistracy  was  expired,  I  was  seized 
with  a  violent  fit  of  the  gout,  and  remained  three  months 
in  the  utmost  torture.  My  irreligious  situation  left  me 
no  resources  in  God ;  my  im.patience  was  uncontrolled ; 
1  often  wished  myself  dead ;  but  the  God  of  all  mercy 
was  deaf  to  my  wicked  prayers,  and  restored  me  to 
health.  I  knew  not  then  how  to  admire  the  riches  of  his 
goodness  and  forbearancr,  and  had  no  idea  of  that  unut- 
terable kindness  for  which  he  had  reserved  me.  When 
my  anguish  in  some  measure  abated,  my  conscience  se- 
verely rebuked  me  for  continuing  in  sin  and  rebellion 
against  a  merciful  God.  I  determined,  but  alas,  in  my 
own  strength,  to  lead  a  new  life,  and  never  more  to  offend. 
The  consequence  was  what  might  be  expected,  when 
there  is  no  other  dependence  than  on  the  arm  of  flesh ;  as 
soon  as  health  and  strength  permitted,  I  broke  through 
all  my  resolutions,  and  ran  to  my  darling  vice,  '  like  the 
dog  to  his  vomit.'  '  Can  the  Etheopian  change  his  skin, 
or  the  leopard  his  spots?  then  may  ye  also  do  good  that 
are  accustomed  to  do  evil,'  where  no  power  but  that  of 
nature  is  concerned.  I  went  on  in  a  continual  hurry  of 
business;  all  appearance  of  religion  ceased,  public  and 


WILLIAM    HOWARD.  197 

private  worship  were  both  neglected  entirely ;  worldly 
business  and  sensual  gratification  by  turns  engrossed  me; 
and  the  bountiful  Giver  of  all  good  things  was  never 
mentioned,  except  in  blasphemy  and  profaneness.  What 
blessing  could  indeed  attend  a  life  spent  in  the  service  of 
sin,  and  in  rebellion  against  the  Most  High?  Surely 
nothing  but  his  tender  mercy  could  save  so  vile  a  wretch 
from  total  perdition." 

The  narrative  from  which  the  above  account  is  taken, 
proceeds  to  give  a  distinct  account  of  his  commercial 
concerns  and  engagements.  A  man  so  deeply  immersed 
in  wickedness  could  not  be  supposed  to  be  very  prudent 
in  his  affairs.  He  became  embarrassed,  and  finally  failed. 
Alluding  to  this  unfortunate  result,  his  account  proceeds 
thus. 

"  After  my  failure  in  November,  1770,  my  heart  still 
unhumbled  under  the  mighty  hand  of  God,  remained  un- 
der the  power  of  sin,  amidst  all  the  variegated  scenes  of 
flight,  exile  and  distress.  In  London  I  found  a  new 
world,  overspread  with  allurements  to  captivate  my  soul ; 
and  my  conduct  was,  as  before,  equally  foolish  and  wick- 
ed. There  is,  however,  such  a  thing  as  satiety  in  vice, 
even  where  the  real  love  of  it  is  not  at  all  diminished. 
This  was  my  case.  The  large  draughts  of  sin  and  folly 
which  I  had  taken  in  at  the  metropolis,  occasioned  it.  I 
felt  a  wish  to  retire  to  some  remote  corner  of  England, 
where  I  might  live  at  a  cheap  rate,  and  safe  from  my 
creditors.  A  generous  friend  providentially  supplied  me, 
at  a  time  when  I  was  involved  in  the  deepest  distress, 
and  enabled  me  to  put  this  scheme  itno  execution.  I  left 
London  about  the  middle  of  May,  1772,  with  a  view  to 
18 


198  WILLIAM    HOWARD. 

retire  into  Yorkshire.  In  this  journey  I  reached  the 
Humber,  a  large  river  that  divides  Lincohishire  from 
Yorkshire.^  While  I  waited  for  the  passage-boat,  I  ob- 
served 1.1  pon  the  opposite  side,  some  miles  to  the  left,  a 
beautiful  village,  standing  on  an  eminence  near  the  river, 
finely  adorned  with  trees  and  stately  buildings. i  To  me 
it  seemed  an  earthl}^  paradise.  Better  than  that  it  proved  ; 
for  there  my  heaven  began.  I  was  informed  that  its 
name  was  Ferriby,  eight  miles  from  Hull,  several  of 
whose  opulent  merchants  adorned  it  in  the  manner  which  ' 
had  so  strongly  feasted  my  sight.  1  felt  myself,  how- 
ever, determined  to  live  there,  and  found  a  public  house 
for  my  reception.  The  village  fully  answered  my  ideas, 
beautiful  beyond  description  by  ts  delightful  situation, 
and  elegant  improvements.  1'here  was  a  church  served 
by  the  Rev.  Joseph  Milner  He  was  lecturer  at  the  High 
Church  in  Hull,  where  he  resided,  teaching  the  public 
grammar  school  there,  and  preaching  on  the  Sunday 
mornings  at  Ferriby,  I  went  constantly  to  hear  him, 
though  with  no  other  motive  than  that  mechanical  kind 
of  habit  which  disposes  us  to  do  as  our  neighbors  do. 
Little  attention  did  I  pay  to  anything  which  cam.e  from 
his  lips.  His  sermons  became  long  and  tedious.  Worldly 
sorrow  left  no  room  with  me  for  pious  meditation.  1  felt  my- 
self miserable  indeed,  but  had  no  ideal  of  applying  to  that, 
which  alone  could  make  me  happy.  Indeed  the  transi- 
tory things  of  time  and  sense  can  make  no  man  happy. 
In  the  time  of  my  greatest  prosperity  it  was  with  me,  as 
with  every  person  who  is  a  stranger  to  the  grace  of  God. 

That  cruel  something  unpossessed, 
Corrodes  and  leavens  all  the  rest. 

How  is  it  possible  that  it  should  be  otherwise.     Not  all 
created  things  can  fill  the  capacious  desires  of  the  immor- 


WILLIAM    HOWARD.  199 

tal  soul.  No,  nothing  short  of  the  Creator's  love,  im- 
planted in  the  soul  by  the  operation  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
can  complete  its  felicity,  and  give  it  to  experience  the 
real  good  of  man. 

I  passed  some  time  in  a  distressed  state  of  m.ind,  re- 
flecting with  bitterness  on  my  hard  fate  and  worldly 
trouble.  About  the  beginning  of  August,  instead  of  go- 
ing to  church  on  the  Lord's  day  as  usual,  I  sauntered  by 
the  river  side  to  kill  time  ;  when  I  was  suddenly  seized 
with  a  violent  disorder  in  my  head,  and  fell  down  terrified, 
fearing  I  was  dying,  and  I  prayed  to  God  to  spare  me, 
which  he  mercifully  did.  In  an  hour's  time  1  arrived  at 
my  lodgings  ;  and  in  a  few  days  recovered  of  my  frightful 
apprehension  of  a  sudden  death.  But  a  violent  head-ache 
ensued,  the  anguish  of  which,  in  a  great  m  eaiire,  dissi- 
pated my  worldly  sorrow.  I  concluded  that  the  judg- 
ment of  God  was  upon  me,  for  neglecting  public  worship 
which  I  therefore  determined  to  omit  no  more. 

I  now  paid  more  attention  to  the  preacher,  who,  I  ob- 
served, seemed  to  enforce  his  doctrine  with  much  earnest- 
ness, and  positively  dec  ared  over  and  over  again,  that 
except  a  man  be  converted,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of 
God.  All  the  conclusion  I  drew  from  such  an  assertion, 
was,  that  '  too  much  learn  ng  had  made  him  mad.' 

On  Sunday,  March  28,  1773,  my  happiness  began, 
though  it  appeared  to  me  indeed,  a  day  of  terror.  How- 
ever, it  was  the  day  on  which  '  the  fear  of  the  Lord, 
which  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom,'  took  hold  of  my  rebel 
heart. 

Mr.  Milner  preached  from  these  words  '  Marvel  not  at 
this:  for  the  hour  is  coming,  in  which  all  that  are  in  their 
graves,  shall  hear  his  voice  and  come  forth,  they  that 
have  done  good  to  the  resurrection  of  life,  and  they  that 


200  WILLIAM    HOWARD. 

have  done  evil,  unto  the  resurrection  of  damnation."  No 
sooner  was  the  text  delivered,  than  the  word  reached  my 
heart  '  quick,  and  powerful,  sharper  than  a  two  edged 
sword.'  Wo  is  me,  thought  I,  for  I  am  undone.  The 
vengeance  of  God  has  at  last  overtaken  me  for  my  num- 
berless crimes.  I  was  so  confounded  that  I  knew  not  a 
word  the  preacher  said  after  giving  out  his  text  :  even 
that  I  forgot.  On  returning  home  I  begged  my  host  to 
show  me  the  text.  On  looking  it  over,  I  told  him  that  I 
was  undone;  that  the  words  it  contained,  condemned  me 
to  the  resurrection  of  damnation;  that,  instead  of  doing 
good,  I  had  spent  my  whole  life  in  doing  evil.  He  en- 
deavored to  comfort  me,  but  in  vain.  I  now  began  to 
pray  from  a  wounded  spirit,  and  humbled  myself  before 
God,  confessing  my  sins,  and  crying  out  for  mercy,  if 
peradventure  he  would  hear  me.  Cards  and  various  van- 
ities which  I  before  followed,  appeared  now  so  unsuita- 
ble to  my  condition,  that  I  gave  them  all  up.  But  how 
to  be  pardoned  for  my  past  sins,  I  knew  not.  There  re- 
mained a  heavy  burden  on  my  soul.  I  retired  every  day 
to  a  grove  at  a  little  distance,  to  pray  and  read  the  Bible» 
a  book  I  had  rarely  looked  into  for  many  yea.YS.  I  could 
open  no  part  of  it,  but  it  showed  me  what  a  hell-deserving 
sinner  I  was.  This  increased  my  affliction.  I  now 
deeply  lamented  my  deplorable  state,  and  wept  bitterly 
for  my  sins;  my  rejection  of  my  father's  good  counsels 
was  as  a  dagger  to  my  heart.  I  continued  a  whole  week 
without  hope,  dreading  that  the  wrath  of  God  would 
send  me  to  hell,  never  thinking  of  a  Savior,  but  imagin- 
ing my  sins  were  too  heinous  to  be  forgiven.  *  So  foolish 
and  ignorant  was  I,  as  it  were  a  beast  before  God.'  And 
so  great  was  the  anguish  of  my  soul,  that  1  lamented  that 
God  had  spared  Noah   and  his  family.     '  Oh,  had  tbe^ 


YflLLlAM    HOWARD.  201 

also  been  swept  awaj  by  the  deluge,  then  I  had  never 
been  ! '  'A  wounded  spirit  who  can  bear?'  This  world 
was  now  as  insipid  to  me,  as  a  jest  to  a  dying  man. 

The  next  Sabbath,  Mr.  IMilner  preached  from  the  fol- 
lowing words:  '  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his 
only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should 
not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.  For  God  sent  not 
his  Son  into  the  world  to  condemn  the  world,  but  that 
the  wo:id  through  him  may  be  saved.'  He  proclaimed 
God's  most  gracious  pardon  for  the  most  abandoned  sin- 
ner that  would  forsake  his  sins,  repent,  and  believe  in  Je- 
sus, whose  precious  blood  cleanseth  from  all  sins,  however 
heinous  or  numerous.  God  be  thanked,  I  received  some 
consolation  from  that  discourse  ;  hope  revived,  and  glad- 
ness dawned  within  me.  My  prejudice,  as  a  churchman, 
against  those  of  other  denominations,  was  now  so  re- 
moved, that  I  went  in  the  evening,  for  the  first  time,  to  a 
neighboring  village,  to  hear  Mr.  Bottomley,  a  dissenting 
minister.  His  discourse  ^vas  as  an  arrow  to  my  soul, 
though  I  was  not  without  glimmerings  of  hope.  1  pro- 
ceeded joyfully  for  some  days,  imploring  God's  forgive- 
ness, for  the  sake  of  Jesus,  and  the  guidance  of  his  Holy 
Spirit.  I  renounced  my  own  righteousness,  being  v^holly 
sensible  of  my  vileness,  and  of  God's  unbounded  good- 
ness in  still  sparing  me. 

Satan,  enraged  at  my  giving  up  all  hope  of  my  own 
righteousness,  now  cast  a  stumbling-block  in  my  way,  in 
hope  of  stopping  my  progress,  by  filling  my  mind  with 
atheism.  I  was  terrified  beyond  expression ;  cold  drops 
of  sweat  fell  from  me.  I  arose  from  prayer,  and  ran 
about  the  grove  as  one  distracted,  struggling,  but  in  vain, 
against  the  blasphemous  infection.  I  was  now  hopeless, 
indeed  ;  but  that  God  '  who  is  nigh  to  the  broken-hearted,' 
*18 


202  WILLTAM    HOWAHD. 

relieved  me,  bj^  fixing  one  of  his  faithful  promises  so  pow- 
erfully in  my  heart,  that  my  atheism  was  instantly  burned 
to  stubble.  The  promise  was  '  Seek  and  ye  shall  find;' 
a  promise  worth  more  to  me  than  all  the  mines  of  Peru, 
and  which  supported  me  in  all  my  subsequent  trials.  1 
was  soon  composed  enough  to  renew  my  supplications, 
and  to  lift  up  my  heart  in  thanksgiving  to  God  for  my 
deliverance.  My  soul  was  filled  with  a  pleasing  expecta- 
tion that,  by  seeking  the  Lord,  I  should  surely  find  him ; 
and  I  knew  distinctly,  for  the  first  time,  what  is  meant 
by  resting  on  a  divine  promise.  I  pressed  forward  with 
strong  desire,  laboring  to  see  the  Savior,  with  the  eye  of 
faith,  bleeding  on  his  cross,  and  would  have  given  the 
world  to  call  him  my  own.  And  though  I  waver- 
ed often,  through  the  power  of  unbelief,  yet,  on  the 
whole,  I  constantl}^  fed  on  the  promise,  '  Seek  and  ye 
SHALL  find.'  The  shall  of  the  Almighty  was  an  an- 
chor of  hope  to  my  soul,  sure  and  steadfast,  and  I  was 
enabled  to  conclude  that  he  would  at  length  appear  for 
my  relief. 

The  third  week  of  my  conviction,  the  tempter  made  a 
new  attack,  suggesting,  that  as  I  had  lived  to  grey  hairs 
in  the  service  of  sin,  I  must  by  a  long  course  of  repentance, 
work  myself  into  a  state  of  holiness,  before  I  could  be  par- 
doned ;  a  mistake  which  cost  me  many  a  sorrowful  hour. 
For  no  sooner  had  self  set  up  his  standard,  than  I  felt  my 
heart  stony  for  the  first  time.  Sometimes  at  pra3'er,  it 
seemed  as  if  it  were  a  ball  of  iron  within  me.  I  could 
not  now  shed  tears  as  before,  which  greatly  distressed 
me;  but  I  was  not  forsaken:  the  still,  small,  but  power- 
ful voice  of  God,  sounded  in  my  heart  every  day,  drawing 
me  with  the  cords  of  love.  The  Spirit  of  God  caused 
my  soul  to  aspire  after  heavenly  things,  and  forget  world- 


WILLIAM    HOWARD.  203 

\y  cares,  as  if  I  had  been  new  born.  '  How  wonderful 
art  thou,  Lord,  in  all  thy  ways !  how  great  are  thy  mer- 
cies to  the  children  of  men  ! ' 

I  omitted  no  opportunity  of  hearing  Mr.  Milner  preach, 
and  Mr.  Bottomley,  who  often  delivered  the  strongest  gos- 
pel encouragements,  '  to  comfort  those  that  mourn.' 
Nevertheless,  I  was  not  able  to  laj'  hold  of  any,  but  that 
precious  one  which  has  been  mentioned,  and  which  the 
Lord  made  to  be  sufficient  for  my  hour  of  need.  They 
labored  likewise  to  describe  man's  fall  in  Adam,  and  our 
depravity  of  heart  by  nature ;  but  this  was  a  point  of 
doctrine,  as  yet,  hid  from  me.  Often  did  1  complain  to 
God  of  my  actual  sins;  but  the  bitter  root  of  a  sinful 
nature  I  saw  not,  nor  was  I  rightly  convinced  of  my 
nothingness  in  myself.  In  solitude  I  mourned  for  my 
sins,  still  hoping  that  God  would  in  his  good  time, 
grant  me  my  heart's  desire.  In  the  mean  time,  some  of 
my  acquaintance  believed  I  was  falling  into  despair. 

The  sixth  week  of  my  conviction,  the  parish  clerk 
informed  me  that  Mr.  Milner  would  be  at  his  house  the 
Saturday  evening  following,  when  I  might  have  an  op- 
portunit}'  of  a  personal  interview  with  him.  I  gladly 
accepted  the  offer,  and  longed  for  the  approaching 
time. 

He  received  me  with  much  affection,  and  said  he  was 
glad  to  hear  I  wished  to  seek  the  Lord,  and  depart  from 
evil.  I  related  to  him  my  distress  for  six  weeks  past, 
how  I  was  awakened  under  his  ministry,  and  was  not 
without  hope  of  divine  forgiveness ;  that  I  rested  on  my 
Savior's  promise,  "  Seek,  and  ye  shall  find,"  and  firmly 
believed  that  he  could  not  break  his  word.  But  as  I  had 
spent  my  whole  life  in  doing  evil,  I  was  confident  that 
my  pardon  could  only  be  procured  on  the  condition  of  a 
long  course  of  repentance. 


204  WILLIAM    HOWARD. 

He  desired  that  I  would  truly  answer  him  one  question 
remembering  that  I  was  in  God's  presence,  from  whom 
no  secret  can  be  hid.  '  Do  you  believe,'  said  he,  '  that 
God  would  be  just  if  he  banished  you  to  hell  ? '  I  an- 
swered, 'Most  assuredly,  if  that  were  his  pleasure,  as  there 
never  lived  a  more  infamous  wretch  than  mj'self.'  How- 
ever, I  believed  his  judgments  were  mixed  with  mercy, 
otherwise  1  must  have  been  in  hell  thirty  years  ago  ;  for 
that  my  whole  life  had  been  one  continued  scene  of  trans- 
gression. 

'  I  have  now,'  said  he,  '  great  hopes  that  you  are  not 
far  from  happiness.  But  how  is  it  that  you  expect  pardon 
for  the  merit  of  your  repentance  ?  Do  you  know  your 
state  by  nature,  that  it  is  not  in  you,  by  reason  of  indwel- 
ling sin,  either  to  repent,  to  believe,  or  even  to  think  one 
really  good  thought?  You  must  be  dependent  upon 
divine  grace  for  all  these  things.  As  he  understood  by 
my  answer,  my  ignorance  of  the  true  doctrine  of  the  fall, 
he  showed  me  that  God  created  Adam  upright,  and  after 
his  own  image;  that  by  his  disobedience,  he  forfeited 
the  divine  favor,  and  brought  down  a  curse  on  himself 
and  all  his  posterity ;  that  hence  we  are  all  '  by  nature 
children  of  wrath,  earthly,  sensual  and  devilish;'  that 
he  himself  was  equally  guilty  with  me,  though  he  had 
never  gone  into  those  lengths  of  gross  immorality  which 
I  had  done ;  yet  that  his  heart  was  naturally  corrupt, 
being  estranged  from  God  by  the  veil  of  darkness  that 
covers  our  hearts  through  the  extreme  corruption  of  na- 
ture ;  that  all  without  exception,  remain  under  the  power 
of  that  darkness,  and  under  the  curse  of  the  divine  law, 
till  \hey  experience  redemption  by  believing  in  Christ, 
whose  blood  alone,  and  not  our  works,  can  atone  for  our 
sins,  and  justify  us  in  the  sight  of  God ;  for  '  cursed  is 


WILLIAM    HOWARD.  205 

every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  written  in  the 
book  of  the  law  to  do  them.'  '  Now,'  added  he,  '  the 
Holy  Spirit  hath  convinced  you  what  a  vile  sinner  you 
are,  humbled  your  stubborn  heart  to  godly  sorrow,  and 
prepared  you  to  receive  God's  most  gracious  pardon,  and 
as  one  of  Christ's  ministers,  I  will  lay  the  divine  invita- 
tion before  you,  that  you.  may  be  reconciled  to  Him,  by 
accepting  a  pardon  of  all  your  sins ;  and  may  live  the 
rest  of  your  days  to  his  glory.'  He  then  opened  to  me  the 
following  passage  of  Scripture.  '  Now  then,  we  are 
ambassadors  for  Christ,  as  though  God  did  beseech  you 
by  us,  we  pray  you  in  Christ's  stead,  Be  3'e  reconciled  to 
God.  For  he  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us,  who  knew 
no  sin  ;  that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God 
in  him.'  '  I  now  stand  in  St.  Paul's  place,'  says  he, 
*  and  beg  you  to  believe  this  invitation,  and  accept  the 
pardon  of  all  your  sins,  which  Christ  has  purchased  for 
3^ou,  and  which  God  freely  bestows  on  you,  for  his  sake. 
On  my  reading  the  invitation,  my  soul  was  humbled  in 
the  dust,  and  I  cried  out,  '  Dear  sir,  how  can  1  believe 
that  God  should  invite  a  sinful  wretch  like  me,  to  be  rec- 
onciled to  him  ?  '  He  laid  open  to  me  many  passages  of 
Scripture,  all  tending  to  confirm  the  same  thing ;  among 
others,  the  well  known  parable  of  the  prodigal  son,  de- 
claring that  the  invitation,  '  we  pray  you  in  Christ's  stead, 
be  ye  reconciled  to  God,'  was  God's  own  word  spoken  by 
his  servant  Paul,  through  the  inspiration  of  the  Holy 
Ghost ;  adding  that  '  God's  thoughts  are  not  as  man's 
thoughts,  nor  his  ways  as  our  ways.' 

Notwithstanding  all  that  he  said,  I  could  not  believe  it 
to  be  God's  invitation,  but  imagined  it  might  be  a  mistake 
in  the  printing  of  his  Bible,  and  wished  to  see  how  it 
"Vvas  in   niine.     Nevertheless  I  concealed   my  intention, 


206  WILLIAM    HOWARD. 

and   desired  leave  to  retire  a  little,   promising   soon   to 
return.     I  hastened  to  my  lodgings,  and   eagerly  opened 
the  same  place,  and  found  the  very  same  words.     1  fixed 
my  eyes  wishfully  on  the  invitation,  a  few  moments.     A 
great  weakness  seized  me,   that  I  could  neither  pray  nor 
utter  a  word ;  I  was  truly  helpless.     Then  it  was,  that 
my    God    and   Savior    manifested   his  strength   in   my 
weakness.      Quick  as  lightning   the  Holy  Ghost  took 
possession  of  my   heart,  and  filled  all  my  faculties  with 
heavenly  delight.     My  tongue  or  pen  can   very  faintly 
describe  it.     All  the  bliss  1  had  ever  enjoyed  was  no  more 
like  it,  than  midnight  darkness  is  like  the  meridian  sun. 
It  was  heaven  indeed,  something   of  the  real  nature  of 
heaven  I  then  enjoyed.     My  soul  was  wrapt  in  the  em- 
braces of  the  adorable  Jesus.     And  I  was  so  overpowered 
with  holy  love,  that  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  I  forgot 
there  was  such  a  person  as  Mr.  Milner.     At  length  I  re- 
turned, and  exclaimed  aloud,  that  the   Holy   Ghost  was 
in  ray  heart,  and  that  God  was  in  Christ,  reconcihng  the 
world    to  himself.      My    Lord's   never  failing   promise, 
'  Seek  and  ye  shall  find,'  was  made  good  to  my  now  hap- 
py soul.     Glory  be  to  thee,   O    Lord   my    God,    whose 
mercy  and  truth  endureth  from  generation  to  generation, 
and  never  faileth.     I  spent  the  ensuing  night  in  singing 
praises  to  my  God  and  Savior,  who  purchased  my  pardon 
with  his  blood,  feasting  my  soul  with  fatness  and  heaven- 
ly delight;  '  the  Spirit  of  God  witnessing  with  my  Spirit 
that  I  was  born  of  God,   and   a  joint   heir  with   Christ.' 
How  insignificant   did  this  world,  with  all  its  grandeur 
appear  to  me  who  had  '  Ch  ist  the  hope  of  glorj^'  for  my 
everlasting   treasure!        [    then    experienced   indeed  the 
truth  of  the  doctrine  which  1  had  heard  from   the  pulpit, 
that  '  except  a  man  be  born  again,   he  canriot  see  the 


WILLIAM    HOWARD.  207 

kingdom  of  God.'  And  this  blessing  is  to  be  felt  in  hap- 
py experience.  'For  at  that  day,'  says  our  Lord,  'ye 
shall  know  that  1  am  in  my  Father  and  ye  in  me,  and  I 
in  you.'  1  heartily  wish  none  who  read  this,  may  rest 
satisfied  without  the  same  experience;  'for  if  any  man 
have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  his.'  '  Know 
ye  not,'  says  St.  Paul,  writing  to  the  Corinthian  believers, 
•  that  ye  are  the  temple  of  God,  and  the  Spirit  of  God 
dwelleth  in  you  ?  ' 

Fired  with  zeal  for  the  Redeemer's  cause,  I  now  felt 
myself  disposed  to  warn  all  I  met  with,  to  repent  and  be- 
lieve the  gospel,  that  they  might  be  saved,  declaring  what 
great  things  the  Lord  had  done  for  me,  the  worst  of 
sinners. 

I  wrote  an  account  of  these  things  to  my  nephew  at 
Dublin,  giving  him  and  the  rest  of  my  relations,  the  best 
instructions  I  could,  by  which  they  might  obtain  the 
same  preciors  gift.  They  concluded  that  I  was  beside 
myself,  in  consequence  of  which,  my  nephew  despatched 
a  friend  to  visit  me,  who  on  his  return,  removed  their  fears, 
by  informing  them  of  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in 
my  conversation  and  conduct. 

In  March,  1774,  I  went  to  London,  and  there  heard 
various  preachers  of  the  gospe  of  Christ.  All  enlightened 
teachers  cf  every  denomination,  I  was  enabled  to  see,  are 
instruments  in  the  Lord's  hands,  'for  turning  sinners 
from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  to 
God.'  After  some  time  I  returned  to  Dublin.  My  nephew 
and  the  rest  of  my  family  received  me  joyfully. 

During  my  short  stay,  I  had  some  of  my  relations  and 
acquaintances  often  with  me.  I  labored  to  convince  them 
of  their  deplorable  state  by  nature  and  practice,  and  to 
show  them  the  necessity  of  conversion.     Nor  were  my 


208  WILLIAM    HOWARD. 

labors  lost ;  my  wife  was  convinced  of  her  unworthiness, 
was  led  to  true  repentance,  and  was  blessed  with  a  sense 
of  the  love  of  Christ.  After  this,  she  declined  in  health, 
and  departed  this  life,  having  hope  in  her  death ;  and  en- 
tered into  the  joy  of  her  Lord,  She  was  the  first  ripe 
fruit  that  God  was  pleased  to  bestow  upon  my  labors. 
Others  of  them  became  rather  uneasy,  and  went  to  hear 
preachers,  whom  before  they  had  treated  with  con- 
tempt. Glory  be  to  God,  my  journey  to  Dublin  was  not 
in  vain ! 

I  longed  to  hear  Christ's  ministers,  and  to  assemble 
with  his  people.  The  Lord  my  God  conveyed  me  in 
safety,  where  I  enjoyed  that  glorious  privilege ;  '  There- 
fore praise  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all  his 
benefits,  who  pardoneth  all  thy  sins,  and  healeth  all  thine 
infirmities.'  " 


CHAPTER    VII. 
COL.    JAMES    GARDINER. 

THE    POWER    OP    GRACE. 

Colonel  James  Gardiner  was  born  at  Carriden,  in  Lin- 
lithgowshire, on  the  10th  of  January  A.  D.  1687-8.  His 
father  Captain  Patrick  Gardiner,  served  many  years  in  the 
army  of  King  William  and  Glueen  Anne,  and  died  abroad 
with  the  British  forces  in  Germany  in  the  year  1692. 
His  mother  took  care  to  instruct  him  with  great  tender- 
ness and  aifection  in  the  principles  of  true  Christianity. 
He  was  also  trained  up  to  human  literature,  and  made 
very  considerable  attainments  in  its  various  branches. 

Could  his  pious  mother  have  prevailed,  he  would  not 
have  thought  of  a  military  life.  But  it  suited  his  taste; 
and  the  ardor  of  his  spirit,  animated  by  the  persuasions  of 
other  friends,  was  not  to  be  restrained.  He  enlisted  in  the 
army  at  a  very  early  age,  and  signalized  himself  in  many 
battles,  by  his  remarkable  courage  and  bravery.  So  well 
did  he  approve  himself  in  his  miUtary  character,  that  he 
was  promoted  from  one  post  of  honor  and  authority  to 
another,  till,  in  1743,  he  received  a  Colonel's  commission 
over  a  regiment  of  dragoons ;  at  the  head  of  which  he 
valiantly  fell,  in  the  defence  of  his  sovereign  and  his 
19 


210  JAMES    GARDINER. 

country,  about  two  years  and  a  half,  after  he  received  it. 
Very  little  is  known  of  the  particulars  of  those  wild, 
thoughtless  and  wretched  j'ears,  between  the  19th  and 
30th  ofhis  life ;  except  it  be,  that  he  frequently  experi- 
enced the  divine  goodness,  in  preserving  him  in  several 
hot  military  actions,  in  which  he  never  received  so  much 
as  a  wound,  forward  as  he  was  in  tempting  danger ;  and 
yet,  that  all  these  years  were  spent  in  an  entire  alienation 
from  God,  and  an  eager  pursuit  of  animal  pleasure,  as  his 
supreme  good. 

But  I  hasten  to  that  most  astonishing  part  of  his  histo- 
ry, the  account  of  his  conversion  ;  which  I  cannot  enter 
upon,  without  assuring  the  reader,  that  I  have  sometimes 
been  tempted  to  suppress  many  circumstances  of  it ;  not 
only  as  they  may  seem  incredible  to  some,  and  enthusias- 
tical  to  others,  but  as  I  am  very  sensible  they  are  liable 
to  great  abuses ;  which  was  the  reason  he  gave  me  for 
concealing  the  most  extraordinary  from  many  persons  to 
•whom  he  mentioned  some  of  the  rest.  And  1  believe  it 
was  this,  together  with  the  desire  of  avoiding  everything 
that  might  look  like  ostentation  on  this  head,  that  pre- 
vented his  leaving  a  written  account  of  it;  though  I  have 
often  entreated  him  to  do  it,  as  I  particularly  remember  I 
did,  in  the  very  last  letter  I  ever  wrote  him,  and  pleading 
the  possibility  of  his  falling  amidst  those  dangers,  to 
which  I  knew  his  valor  might  in  such  circumstances 
naturally  expose  him.  I  was  not  so  happy  as  to  receive 
any  answer  to  this  letter,  which  reached  him  but  a  few 
daj's  before  his  death ;  nor  can  I  certainly  say,  whether 
he  had,  or  had  not,  complied  w^ith  my  request ;  as  it  is 
very  possible  a  paper  of  that  kind,  if  it  were  written,  might 
be  lost  amidst  the  ravages  which  the  rebels  made,  when 
they  plundered  Bankton. 


JAMES    GARDINER.  211 

The  story,  however,  was  so  remarkable,  that  I  had  little 
reason  to  apprehend  I  should  ever  forget  it ;  and  yet,  to 
guard  against  all  contingencies  of  that  kind,  I  wrote  it 
down  the  very  evening,  I  heard  it  from  his  own  mouth ; 
and  I  have  now  before  me  the  account  of  that  conversa- 
tion, dated  August  14,  1739,  which  concludes  with  these 
words;  (which  I  added  that  if  we  should  both  have  died 
that  night,  the  world  might  not  have  lost  this  edifying 
and  affecting  history,  or  have  wanted  any  attestation  of 
it  I  was  capable  of  giving;)  "  N.  B.  I  have  written 
down  this  account  with  all  the  exactness  I  am  capable 
of,  and  could  safely  take  an  oath  of  it  as  to  the  truth  of 
every  circumstance,  to  the  best  of  my  remembrance  as  the 
Colonel  related  it  to  me  a  few  hours  ago."  I  do  not 
know  that  I  had  reviewed  this  paper  since  I  wrote  it,  till 
I  set  m^yself  thus  publicly  to  record  this  extraordinary 
fact;  but  I  find  it  punctually  to  agree  with  what  I  have 
often  related  from  my  memory,  which  I  charged  care- 
fully with  so  wonderful  and  im.portant  a  fact.  It  is 
with  all  solemnity  that  I  now  deliver  it  down  to  posterity, 
as  in  the  sight  and  presence  of  God.  And  I  choose  de- 
liberately to  expose  mj^self  to  those  severe  censures,  which 
the  haughty,  bat  empty  scorn  or  infidelity,  on  principles 
nearly  approaching  to  it,  and  effectually  doing  its  pei- 
nicious  work,  may  very  probably  dictate  upon  the  occa- 
sion, rather  than  to  smother  a  relation,  which  may,  in  the 
judgment  of  my  conscience,  be  likely  to  conduce  so  much 
to  the  glory  of  God,  the  honor  of  the  gospel,  and  the 
good  of  mankind.  One  thing  more  I  will  only  premise, 
that  I  hope  none  who  have  heard  the  Colonel  himself 
speak  something  of  this  wonderful  scene,  will  be  sur- 
prised if  they  find  some  new  circumstances  here  ;  because 
he  assured  me,  at  the  time  he  first  gave  me  the  whole 


212  JAMES    GARDINER. 

narration,  that  he  had  never  imparted  it  so  fully  to  any 
man  hving  before.  Yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  gave  me 
full  liberty  to  communicate  it  to  whomsoever  I  should  in 
my  conscience  judge  it  might  be  useful  to  do  it,  whether 
before  or  after  his  death.  Accordingly  I  did,  while  he 
was  alive,  recount  almost  every  circumstance  1  am  now 
going  to  write,  to  several  pious  friends  ;  referring  them  at 
the  same  time  to  the  Colonel  himself,  whenever  they 
might  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  or  writing  to  him, 
for  a  farther  confirmation  of  what  I  told  them,  if  they 
judged  it  requisite.  They  glorified  God  in  him ;  and  I 
humbly  hope  many  of  my  readers  will  also  do  it.  They 
will  soon  perceive  the  reason  of  so  much  caution  in  my 
introduction  to  this  story,  for  which  therefore  I  shall  make 
no  farther  apology. 

This  memorable  event  happened  towards  the  middle  of 
July,  1719;  but  I  cannot  be  exact  as  to  the  day.  The 
major  had  spent  the  evening,  (and,  if  I  mistake  not,  it 
was  the  Sabbath,)  in  some  gay  company,  and  had  a 
wicked  appointment  with  a  companion  in  sin,  whom  he 
was  to  attend  exactly  at  twelve.  The  company  broke  up 
about  eleven ;  and,  not  judging  it  convenient  to  antici- 
pate the  time  appointed,  he  went  into  his  chamber  to  kill 
the  tedious  hour,  perhaps  with  some  amusing  book,  or  in 
some  other  way.  But  it  very  accidentally  [providential- 
ly?] happened,  that  he  took  up  a  religious  book,  which 
his  good  mother  or  aunt  had,  without  his  knowledge, 
slipped  into  his  portmanteau.  It  was  called,  if  I  remem- 
ber the  title  exactly,  The  Christian  Soldier,  or  Heaven 
taken  by  Storm ;  and  was  written  by  Mr.  Thomas  Wat- 
son. Guessing  by  the  title  of  it,  that  he  should  find 
some  phrases  of  his  own  profession  spiritualized,  in  a 
manner  which  he  thought  might  afford  him  some  diver- 


JAMES    GARDIXLR.  213 

sion,  he  resolved  to  dip  into  it ;  but  lie  took  no  serious 
notice  of  anything  he  read  in  it ;  and  yet,  while  this 
book  was  in  his  hand,  an  iujpression  was  n)ade  upon  his 
mind,  (perhaps  God  only  knows  how,)  which  drew 
after  it  a  train  of  the  most  important  and  happy  con- 
sequences. 

There  is  indeed  a  possibility,  that  while  he  was  sitting 
in  this  attitude,  and  reading  in  this  careless  and  profane 
manner,  he  might  suddenly  fall  asleep,  and  only  dream 
of  what  he  apprehended  he  saw.  But  nothing  can  be 
more  certain,  than  that,  when  he  gave  me  this  relation, 
he  judged  himself  to  have  been  as  broad  aw^ake,  during 
the  whole  time,  as  he  ever  was  in  any  part  of  his  life ; 
and  he  mentioned  it  to  me  several  times  afterwards,  as 
what  undoubtedly  passed,  not  only  in  his  imagination,  but 
before  his  eyes. 

He  thought  he  saw  an  unusual  blaze  of  light  fall  on 
the  book  while  he  was  reading,  which  he  at  first  imagined 
might  happen  by  some  accident  in  the  candle.  But 
lifting  up  his  eyes,  he  apprehended  to  his  extreme  amaze- 
ment, that  there  was  before  him,  as  it  were  suspended  in 
the  air,  a  visible  representation  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
upon  the  cross,  surrounded  on  all  sides  with  a  glory ;  and 
was  impressed,  as  if  a  voice,  or  something  equivalent  to  a 
voice,  had  come  to  him,  to  this  effect,  (for  he  was  not 
confident  as  to  the  very  words,)  '•  O  sinner,  did  I  suffer 
this  for  thee,  and  are  these  the  returns?"  But  whether 
this  were  an  audible  voice,  or  only  a  strong  impression  on 
his  mind  equally  striking,  he  did  not  seem  very  confident  •, 
though,  to  the  best  of  my  remembrance,  he  rather  judged 
it  to  be  the  former.  Struck  with  so  amazing  a  pheno- 
menon as  this,  there  remained  hardly  any  life  in  him,  so 
that  he  sunk  back  in  the  arm-chair,  in  which  he  sat, 
*19 


214  JAMi:S    GAKDINEK. 

and  continued,  he  knew  not  how  long,  insensible;  which 
was  one  circumstance,  that  made  me  several  times  take 
the  liberty  to  suggest,  that  he  might  have  been  all  this 
time  asleep ;  but  however  that  were,  he  quickly  after 
opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  nothing  more  than  usual. 

It  may  easily  be  supposed,  he  was  in  no  condition  to 
make  any  observation  upon  the  lime,  in  which   he  had 
remained  in  an  insensible  state.     Nor  did  he,  throughout 
all  the  remainder  of  the  night,  once  recollect  that  crimi- 
nal  appointment,    which   had    before    engrossed   all  his 
thoughts.     He  rose  in  a  tumult  of  passions,   not  to  be 
conceived ;  and  walked  to  and  fro  in  his  chamber,  till  he 
was  ready  to  drop  down,  in  unutterable  astonishment  and 
agony  of  heart ;  appearing  to  himself  the  vilest  monster 
in  the  creation  of  God,  who  had  all  his  life-time  been  cru- 
cifying  Christ  afresh  by  his  sins,  and  now  saw,  as  he 
really  believed,  by  a  miraculous  vision,  the  horror  of  what 
he  had  done.     With  this  was  connected  such  a  view, 
both  of  the  majesty  and  goodness  of  God,  as  caused  him 
to  loathe  and  abhor  himself,  and  to  repent  as  in  dust  and 
ashes.     He  immediately  gave  judgment  against  himself, 
that  he  was  most  justly  worthy  of  eternal  damnation  ;  he 
was  astonished,  that  he  had  not  been  immediately  struck 
dead  in  the  midst  of  his  wickedness  ;  and  (which  I  think 
deserves   particular   remark,)    though    he    assuredly    be- 
lieved that  he  should  ere  long  be  in  hell,  and  settled  it  as 
a  point  with  himself  for  several  months,  that  the  wisdom 
and  justice  of  God  did   almost  necessarily  require,  that 
such  an  enormous  sinner  should  be  made  an  example  of 
everlasting  vengeance,  and  a  spectacle  as  such,  both  to 
angels  and  to  men,  so   that  he  hardly  durst  presume   to 
pray  for  pardon;  yet  what  he  then  suffered,  was  not  so 
much  from  the  fear  of  hell,  though  he  concluded  it  would 


JAMES    GARDINER.  ^15 

soon  be  his  portion,  as  from  a  sense  of  that  horrible  in- 
gratitude he  had  shown  to  the  God  of  his  life,  and  to  that 
blessed  Redeemer,  who  had  been,  in  so  affecting  a  manner, 
set  forth  crucified  before  him. 

To  this  he  refers  in  a  letter,  dated  from  Douglass,  April 
1,  1725,  communicated  to  me  by  his  lady,  but  I  know 
not  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  His  words  are  these ; 
"  One  thing  relating  to  my  conversion,  and  a  remarkable 
instance  of  the  goodness  of  God  to  me,  the  chief  of  sin- 
ners, I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  told  to  any  other 
person.  It  was  this;  that  after  the  astonishing  sight  I 
had  of  my  blessed  Lord,  the  terrible  condition  in  which  I 
was,  proceeded  not  so  much  from  the  terrors  of  the  law, 
as  from  a  sense  of  having  been  so  ungrateful  a  monster 
to  Him  whom  I  thought  I  saw  pierced  for  my  transgres- 
sions." I  the  rather  insert  these  words,  as  they  evidently 
attest  the  circumstance  which  may  seem  most  amazing 
in  this  affair,  and  contain  so  express  a  declaration  of  his 
own  apprehension  concerning  it. 

In  this  view-  it  may  naturally  be  supposed,  that  he 
passed  the  remainder  of  the  night  waking;  and  he  could 
get  but  little  rest  in  several  that  followed.  His  mind 
was  continually  taken  up  in  reflecting  on  the  divine  good- 
ness ;  the  grace  which  had  been  proposed  to  him  in  ihe 
gospel,  and  w^hich  he  had  rejected  ;  the  singular  advan- 
tages he  had  enjoj'ed  and  abused;  and  the  many  favors 
of  providence,  which  he  had  received,  particularly  in  res- 
cuing him  from  so  many  imminent  dangers  of  death, 
which  he  now  saw  must  have  been  attended  with  such 
dreadful  and  hopeless  destruction.  The  privileges  of  his 
education  which  he  had  so  much  despised,  now  lay  with 
an  almost  insupportable  weight  upon  his  mind  :  and  the 
folly  of  that  career  of  s'.nful   pleasure,  which  he  had  so 


216  JAMES    GARDINER. 

many  years  been  running  with  desperate  eagerness  and 
unworthy  delight,  now  filled  him  with  indignation 
against  himself,  and  against  the  great  deceiver,  by  whom, 
to  use  his  own  phrase,  he  had  been  "  so  wretchedly  and 
scandalously  befooled."  This  he  used  often  to  express  in 
the  strongest  terms;  which  I  shall  not  repeat  so  particu- 
larly, as  1  can  recollect  only  some  of  them.  But  on  the 
whole,  it  is  certain,  that  by  what  passed  before  he  left  his 
chamber  the  next  day,  the  whole  frame  and  disposition  of 
his  soul  was  new  modelled  and  changed  ;  so  that  he  be- 
came, and  continued  to  the  last  day  of  his  examplary  and 
truly  Christian  life,  the  very  reverse  of  what  he  had  been 
before.  A  variety  of  particulars,  which  1  am  afterwards 
to  mention,  will  illustrate  this  in  the  most  convincing 
manner.  But  I  cannot  proceed  to  them,  without  pausing 
awhile  to  adore  so  illustrious  an  instance  of  the  power 
and  freedom  of  divine  grace,  and  entreating  my  readei 
seriously  to  reflect  upon  it,  that  his  own  heart  maybe 
suitably  affected  ;  for  surely,  if  the  truth  of  the  fact  be  ad- 
mitted, in  the  lowest  views  in  which  it  can  be  placed, 
that  is,  supposing  the  first  impression  to  have  passed  in  a 
dream,  it  must  be  allowed  to  have  been  little,  if  any  thing 
less,  than  miraculous.  It  cannot  in  the  course  of  nature 
be  imagined,  how  such  a  dream  should  arise  in  a  mind 
full  of  the  most  impure  ideas  and  aflfections,  and,  as  he 
himself  often  pleaded,  more  alienated  from  the  thoughts 
of  a  crucified  Savior,  than  from  any  other  object  that  can 
be  conceived ;  nor  can  we  surely  suppose  it  should,  with- 
out a  mighty  energy  of  the  divine  power,  be  effectual  to 
produce,  not  only  some  transient  flow  of  passion,  but  so 
entire  and  permanent  a  change  in  character  and  con- 
duct.* 

*That  this  wonderful  change  was  wrought  by  the  supernatural  en- 


JAMES    GARDINER.  217 

On  the  whole,  therefore,  I  must  beg  leave  to  express 
my  own  sentiments  of  the  matter,  by  repeating  on  this 
occasion,  what  I  wrote  several  years  ago,  in  my  eighth 
sermon  on  regeneration,  in  a  passage  dictated  chiefly  by 
the  circumstantial  knowledge  which  I  had  of  this  amaz- 
ing story,  and  methinks  sufficiently  vindicated  by  it,  if 
it  stood  entirely  alone ;  which  yet,  I  must  take  the  liberty 
to  say,  it  does  not ;  for  I  hope  the  world  will  be  particu- 
larly informed,  that  there  is  at  least  a  second,  that  very 
nearly  approaches  it,  whenever  the  established  church  of 
England  shall  lose  one  of  its  brightest  living  ornaments, 
and  one  of  the  most  useful  members,  which  that,  or  per- 
haps any  other  Christian  communion,  can  boast :  in  the 
meaniime,  may  his  examplary  life  be  long  continued,  and 
his  zealous  ministry  abundantly  prospered  !  *  I  beg  my 
reader's  pardon  for  this  digression.  The  passage  in  the 
sermon  referred  to  above  is  remarkably,  though  not  equalh% 
applicable  to  both  the  cases.  After  precedmg  illustrations, 
there  are  the  following  words,  on  which  the  colonel's  con- 
version will  throw  the  justest  light :  "  Yea,  I  have  known 
those  of  distinguished  genius,  polite  manners  and  great 
experience  in  human  affairs,  who,  after  having  outgrown 
all  the  impressions  of  a  religious  education,  after  having 
been  hardened,  rather  than  subdued,  by  the  most  singular 

ergy  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  we  have  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt; 
but  we  see  no  necessity  of  supposing  that  there  was  anything  mirac- 
ulous, either  in  the  change  itself,  or  in  the  circumstances  which  at- 
tended it.  The  extraordinary  vision,  or  overpowering  mental  im- 
pression-of  the  moment,  may,  as  Dr.  Doddridge  himself  intimates, 
be  accounted  for  upon  natural  principles;  and  the  work  of  regenera- 
tion, supernatural  as  it  always  must  be,  is  never,  we  believe,  in 
Scripture  represented  as  a  miraculous  work. 

*   Rev.  William  Grimshaw,  of  whose  conversion  the  reader  will 
find  a  short  account  in  this  volume. 


218  JAMES    GARDINER. 

mercies,  even  various,  repeated,  and  astonishing  deliver- 
ances, which  have  appeared  to  themselves  no  less  than 
miraculous ;  after  having  lived  for  years  without  God  in 
the  world,  notoriously  corrupt  themselves,  and  laboring  to 
the  utmost  to  corrupt  others ;  have  stopped  on  a  sudden 
in  the  full  career  of  their  sin,  and  have  felt  such  rays  of 
the  divine  presence,  and  of  redeeming  love,  darting  in 
upon  their  minds,  almost  like  lightning  from  heaven,  as 
have  at  once  roused,  overpowered,  and  transformed  them. 
So  that  they  have  come  out  of  their  secret  chambers 
with  an  irreconcilable  enmity  to  those  vices,  to  which, 
when  they  entered  them,  they  were  the  tamest  and  most 
abandoned  slaves;  and  have  appeared  from  that  very 
hour,  the  votaries,  the  patrons,  the  champions  of  religion; 
and  after  a  course  of  the  most  resolute  attachment  to  it,  in 
spite  of  all  the  reasonings  or  the  railleries,  the  importuni- 
ties, or  the  reproaches,  of  its  enemies,  they  have  continued 
to  this  day  some  of  its  brightest  ornaments:  a  change, 
which  I  behold  with  equal  wonder  and  delight,  and 
which,  if  a  nation  should  join  in  deriding  it,  I  would 
adore  as  the  finger  of  God." 

The  mind  of  Col.  Gardiner  continued  from  this  remark- 
able time  till  towards  the  end  of  October,  that  is,  rather 
more  than  three  months,  but  especially  the  first  two  of 
them,  in  as  extraordinary  a  situation  as  one  can  well  im- 
agine. He  knew  nothing  of  the  joys  arising  from  a  sense 
of  pardon ;  but,  on  the  contrar}',  for  the  greater  part  of 
that  time,  and  with  very  short  intervals  of  hope  towards 
the  end  of  it,  took  it  for  granted,  that  he  must,  in  all  pro- 
bability, quickly  perish.  Nevertheless  he  had  such  a 
sense  of  the  evil  of  sin,  of  the  goodness  of  the  divine  Be- 
ing, and  of  the  admirable  tendency  of  the  Christian  reve- 
lation, that  he  resolved  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life, 


JAMES    GARDINER.  219 

while  God  continued  him  out  of  hell,  in  as  rational  and 
as  useful  a  manner  as  he  could  ;  and  to  continue  casting 
himself  at  the  feet  of  divine  mercy,  every  day,  and  often 
in  a  da3^  if  peradventure  there  might  be  hope  of  pardon, 
of  which  all  that  he  could  say  was,  that  he  did  not  abso- 
lutely despair.  He  had  at  that  time  such  a  sense  of  the 
degeneracy  of  his  own  heart,  that  he  hardly  durst  form 
any  determinate  resolution  against  sin,  or  pretend  to  en- 
gage himself  by  any  vow  in  the  presence  of  God  ;  but  he 
was  continually  crying  to  him,  that  he  would  deliver  him 
from  the  bondage  of  corruption.  He  perceived  in  himself 
a  most  surprising  alteration  with  regard  to  the  disposi- 
tions of  his  heart  ;  so  that,  though  he  felt  lit  lie  of  the  de- 
light of  religious  duties,  he  extremely  desired  opportuni- 
ties of  being  engaged  in  them  ;  and  those  licentious  pleas- 
ures, which  had  before  been  his  heaven,  were  now  abso- 
lutely his  aversion. 

Nor  was  he  only  delivered  from  that  bondage  of  cor- 
ruption, which  had  been  habitual  to  him  for  so  many 
years,  but  felt  in  his  breast  so  contrary  a  disposition,  that 
he  was  grieved  to  see  hum.an  nature,  in  those  to  whom  he 
was  almost  entirely  a  stranger,  prostituted  to  such  low 
and  contemptible  pursuits.  He  therefore  exerted  his  nat- 
ural courage  in  a  very  new  kind  of  combat,  and  became 
an  open  advocate  for  religion,  in  all  its  principles,  so  far 
as  he  was  acquainted  with  them,  and  in  all  its  precepts, 
relating  to  sobriety,  righteousness,  and  godliness.  Yet 
he  was  very  desirous  and  cautious  that  he  might  not  run 
into  an  extreme,  and  made  it  one  of  his  first  petitions  to 
God,  the  very  day  after  these  amazing  impressions  had 
been  wrought  in  his  mind,  that  he  might  not  be  suffered 
to  behave  with  such  an  affected  strictness  and  preciseness, 
as  would  lead  others  about  him  into  mistaken  notions  of 


220  JAMES    GARDINER. 

religion,  and  expose  it  to  reproach  or  suspicion,  as  if  it 
were  an  anlovely  or  uncomfortable  thing.  For  this  reason, 
he  endeavored  to  appear  as  cheerful  in  conversation,  as 
he  conscientiously  could ;  though,  in  spite  of  all  his  pre- 
cautions, some  traces  of  that  deep  inward  sense  which  he 
had  of  his  guilt  and  misery,  would,  at  times,  appear.  He 
made  no  secret  of  it,  however,  that  his  views  were  entirely 
changed,  though  he  concealed  the  particular  circum- 
stances attending  that  change.  He  told  his  most  inti- 
mate companions  freely,  that  he  had  reflected  on  the 
course  of  life  in  which  he  had  so  long  joined  them,  and 
found  it  to  be  folly  and  madness,  unworthy  a  rational 
creature,  and  much  more  unworthy  of  persons  calling 
themselves  Christians.  And  he  set  up  his  standard,  up- 
on all  occasions,  against  the  principles  of  infidelity,  and 
practices  of  vice,  as  determinatcly,  and  as  boldly,  as  ever 
he  displaj^ed  or  planted  his  colors,  when  he  bore  them 
with  so  much  honor  in  the  field. 

I  cannot  forbear  mentioning  one  struggle  of  this  kind, 
which  he  described  to  me  with  a  large  detail  of  circum- 
stances, the  first  day  of  our  acquaintance.  There  was  at 
that  time,  in  Paris,  a  certain  lady,  whose  name,  then 
well  known  in  the  grand  and  the  gay  world,  I  must  beg 
leave  to  conceal,  who  had  imbibed  the  principles  of 
deism,  and  valued  herself  much  upon  being  an  avow- 
ed advocate  for  them.  The  Colonel,  with  his  usual 
frankness,  though  I  doubt  not  with  the  politeness  of  man- 
ners which  was  so  habitual  to  him,  and  which  he  retain- 
ed throughout  his  whole  life,  answered  her  like  a  man 
who  perfectly  saw  through  the  fallacy  of  her  arguments, 
and  was  grieved  to  the  heart  for  her  delusion.  On  this 
she  briskly  challenged  him  to  debate  the  matter  at  large, 
and  to  fix  upon  a  day  for  that  purpose,  when  he  should 


JAMES    GARDINER.  221 

dine  with  her,  attended  with  any  clergyman  he  might 
choose,  whether  of  the  Protestant  or  Cathohc  communion. 
A  sense  of  duty  would  not  allow  him  to  decline  this  chal- 
lenge ;  and  yet  he  had  no  sooner  accepted  it,  than  he  was 
thrown  into  great  perplexity  and  distress,  lest  being  (as  I 
remember  he  expressed  it,  when  he  told  me  the  story,) 
only  a  Christian  of  six  wrecks  old,  he  should  prejudice  so 
good  a  cause,  by  his  unskillful  manner  of  defending  it. 
However,  he  sought  his  refuge  in  earnest  and  repeated 
prayers  to  God,  that  he  who  can  "ordain  strength  and 
perfect  praise,  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings," 
would  graciously  enable  him,  on  this  occasion,  to  vindi- 
cate his  truth  in  a  manner  which  might  carry  conviction 
along  with  it. 

He  then  endeavored  to  marshal  the  arguments  in  his 
own  mind,  as  well  as  he  could;  and  apprehending  that 
he  could  not  speak  with  so  much  freedom  before  a  num- 
ber of  persons,  especially  before  those  whose  province  he 
might  in  that  case  seem  to  invade,  if  he  had  not  devolved 
the  principal  part  of  the  discoiu'se  upon  them,  he  easily 
excused  the  clergyman  or  two,  to  whom  he  mentioned 
the  affair,  and  waited  on  the  lady  alone,  upon  the  day 
appointed.  But  his  heart  was  so  set  upon  the  business, 
that  he  came  earlier  than  he  was  expected,  and  time 
enough  to  have  two  hours  discourse  before  dinner;  nor  did 
he  at  all  decline  having  two  young  persons,  nearly  related 
to  the  lady,  present  during  the  conference. 

He  opened  it,  with  a  view  of  such  arguments  for  the 
Christian  religion  as  he  had  digested  in  his  own  mind,  to 
prove  that  the  Apostles  were  not  mistaken  themselves, 
and  that  ihey  could  not  have  intended  to  impose  upon  us, 
in  the  accounts  they  give  of  the  grand  facts  the}'  attest; 
with  the  truth  of  which  facts,  that  of  the  Christian  reU  . 
20 


222  JAMES    GARDtNER, 

gion  is  most  apparently  connected.  And  it  was  a  great 
encouragement  to  him  to  find,  that,  unaccustomed  as  he 
was  to  discourses  of  this  nature,  he  had  an  unusual  com- 
mand both  of  thought  and  expression ;  so  that  he  recol- 
lected and  uttered  every  thing  as  he  could  have  wished. 
The  lady  heard  with  attention ;  and,  though  he  paused 
between  every  branch  of  the  argument,  she  did  not  inter- 
rupt the  course  of  it,  till  he  told  her  he  had  finished  his 
design,  and  waited  for  her  reply.  She  then  produced 
some  of  her  objections,  which  he  look  up  and  canvassed 
in  such  a  manner,  that,  at  length,  she  burst  out  into  tears, 
allowed  the  force  of  his  arguments  and  replies,  and  ap- 
peared, for  some  time  after,  so  deeply  impressed  with  the 
conversation,  that  it  was  observed  by  several  of  her  friends, 
and  there  is  reason  to  believe,  the  impression  continued, 
at  least  so  far  as  to  prevent  her  ever  appearing  under  the 
character  of  an  unbeliever  or  a  sceptic. 

This  is  only  one  specimen,  among  many  of  the  battles 
he  was  almost  daily  called  to  fight  in  the  cause  of  reli- 
gion and  virtue ;  with  relation  to  which  I  find  him  ex- 
pressing himself  thus,  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Gardiner,  his 
good  mother,  dated  from  Paris,  the  25th  of  January  fol- 
lowing, that  is,  1719-20,  in  answer  to  one  in  which  she 
had  warned  him  to  expect  such  trials.  "  I  have  (says 
he)  already  met  with  them,  and  am  obliged  to  fight,  and 
to  dispute  every  inch  of  ground :  but  all  thanks  and 
praise  to  the  great  Captain  of  my  salvation,  he  fights  for 
me ;  and  then  it  is  no  wonder,  that  I  come  off  mere  than 
a  conqueror;"  by  which  last  expression  I  suppose  he 
meant  to  insinuate,  that  he  was  strengthened  and  estab- 
lished, rather  than  overborne  by  this  opposition.  Yet  it 
was  not  immediately  that  he  gained  such  fortitude.  He 
has  often  told  me,  how  much  he  felt,  in  those  days,  of 


JAMES     GARDINER.  .    2*23 

the  emphasis  of  those  w-ell-chos,?n  words  of  ihe  Apostle, 
in  which  he  ranks  the  trial  of  cruel  mockings,  with 
scourgings,  and  bonds  and  imprisonments.  The  continu- 
ed revilings  with  which  he  was  received,  in  almost  all 
companies  where  he  had  been  most  familiar  before,  did 
often  distress  him  bej'ond  measure ;  so  that  he  has  seve- 
ral times  declared,  he  would  much  rather  have  marched 
up  to  a  battery  of  the  enemies'  cannon,  than  have  been 
obliged,  so  continually  as  he  was.  to  face  such  artillery 
as  this.  But,  like  a  brave  soldier  in  the  first  action 
wherein  he  is  engaged,  he  continued  resolute,  though 
shuddering  at  the  terror  of  the  assault ;  and  quickly  over- 
came those  impressions,  which  it  is  not  perhaps  in  nature 
wholly  to  avoid  :  and  therefore  I  find  l.im,  in  the  letter  re- 
ferred to  above,  which  was  written  about  half  a  year  after 
his  conversion,  "  quite  ashamed  to  think  of  the  uneasi- 
ness which  these  things  once  gave  him."  In  a  word,  he 
went  on,  as  every  resolute  Christian  by  divine  grace, 
may  do,  till  he  turned  ridicule  and  opposition  into  respect 
and  veneration. 

But  this  sei^sible  triumph  over  these  difiiculties  was  not 
till  his  Christian  experience  had  been  abundantly-  advanc- 
ed, by  the  blessing  of  God  on  the  sermons  he  heard,  par- 
ticularly in  the  Swiss  chapel,  and  on  the  many  hours  he 
spent  in  devout  retirement,  pouring  out  his  whole  soul  be- 
fore God  in  prayer.  He  began,  within  about  two  months 
after  his  first  memorable  change,  to  perceive  some  secret 
dawnings  of  more  cheerful  hope,  that  vile  as  he  saw  him- 
self to  be,  and  I  believe  no  words  can  express  how  vile 
that  was,  he  might  nevertheless  obtain  mercy  through  a 
Redeemer.  And  at  length,  if  I  remember  right,  about 
the  end  of  October,  1719,  he  found  all  the  burden  of  his 
mind  taken  off  at  once,  by  the   powerful   impression  of 


224  JAMES     GARDINER. 

that  memorable  Scripture  upon  his  mind,  Rom.  3 :  25,  26. 
—  Whom  God  hath  set  forth  to  be  a  propitiation,  through 
faith  in  his  blood,  to  declare  his  righteousness  for  the  re- 
mission of  sins, —  that  he  might  be  just,  and  the  justifier 
of  him  that  believeth  in  Jesus."  He  had  used  to  imagine, 
that  the  justice  of  God  required  the  damnation  of  so 
enormous  a  sinner  as  he  saw  himself  to  be:  but  now  he 
was  made  deeply  sensible  that  the  divine  justice  might 
be  not  only  vindicated,  but  glorified,  in  saving  him  by  the 
blood  of  Jesus,  even  that  blood  which  cleanseth  us  from 
all  sin.  Then  did  he  see  and  feel  the  riches  of  redeeming 
love  and  grace,  in  such  a  manner  as  not  only  engaged 
him,  with  the  utmost  pleasure  and  confidence  to  venture 
his  soul  upon  it,  but  even  swallowed  up,  as  it  were,  his 
whole  heart  in  the  returns  of  love,  which,  from  that  bles- 
sed time,  became  the  genuine  principle  of  his  obedience^ 
and  animated  him  with  an  enlarged  heart,  to  run  the 
way  of  God's  commandments.  Thus  God  was  pleased, 
as  he  himself  used  to  speak,  in  an  hour  to  turn  his  captiv- 
ity. 411  the  terrors  of  his  former  state  were  changed  into 
unutterable  joy,  which  kept  him  almost  continually  wak- 
ing for  three  nights  together,  and  yet  refreshed  him  as  the 
noblest  of  cordials.  His  expressions,  though  naturally 
very  strong,  always  seemed  to  be  swallowed  up,  when  he 
would  describe  the  series  of  thought  through  which 
he  now  passed,  under  the  rapturous  experience  of  that 
joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  which  then  seemed  to 
overflow  his  very  soul ;  as  indeed  there  was  nothing  he 
seemed  to  speak  of  with  greater  relish.  And  though  the 
first  ecstasies  of  it  afterwards  subsided  into  a  more  calm 
and  composed  delight,  yet  were  the  impressions  so  deep, 
and  so  permanent,  that  he  assured  me  on  the  word  of  a 
Christian  and  a  friend,  wonderful  as  it  might  seem,  that 


JAMias    GAllDlNETl.  ^25 

for  about  seven  years  after  this  he  enjoyed  almost  a  heav. 
en  upon  earth.  His  soul  was  so  continually  filled  with  a 
sense  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ,  that  it  knew  little  in- 
terruption, but  when  necessary  converse  and  the  duties  of 
his  station  called  off  his  thoughts  for  a  little  time ;  and 
when  they  did  so,  as  soon  as  he  was  alone,  the  torrent  re- 
turned into  its  natural  channel  again ;  so  that  from  the 
minute  of  his  waking  in  the  morning,  his  heart  was  ris- 
ing to  God,  and  triumphing  in  him  :  and  these  thoughts 
attended  him  through  all  the  scenes  of  life,  till  he  lay  do^^  n 
on  his  bed  again,  and  a  short  parenthesis  of  sleep,  for  it  was 
but  a  very  short  one  that  he  allowed  himtelf,  invigorated 
his  animal  powers,  for  renewing  them  with  greater  in- 
tenseness  and  sensibility.  Many  other  interesting  partic- 
ulars might  be  added,  but  we  have  not  room  to  enlarge. 

The  July  before  Col.  Gardiner's  death,  he  took  a  jour- 
ney to  Scarborough  for  the  recovery  of  his  health,  which 
his  arduous  and  unremitted  labors  had  greatly  enfeebled: 
though,  when  his  friends  expostulated  with  him,  that  he 
gave  his  body  too  little  rest,  he  used  to  answer,  "  It  will 
rest  long  enough  in  the  grave."  Gluickly  after  his  arri- 
val at  this  place,  the  flame  of  civil  war  burst  out  anew, 
and  his  regiment  was  ordered  to  Stii'ling.  It  was  in  the 
castle  there  that  his  lady  and  eldest  daughter  enjoyed  the 
last  happy  hours  of  his  companj'-.  When  he  saw  his 
lady  affected  even  to  tears,  instead  of  comforting  her,  as 
usual,  by  pleading  that  rem.arkable  hand  of  Providence, 
which  had  hitherto  preserved  him,  he  only  replied,  in  his 
sententious  manner,  "  We  have  an  eternity  to  spend  to- 
gether." 

On  Frida}^  Sept.  20,  the  day  before  the  battle  which 
transmitted  him  to  his  immortal  crown,  when  the  whole 
army  was  drawn  up,  the  Colonel  rode  through  all  the 
*20 


226  JAMES    GARDINER. 

ranks  of  his  own  regiment,  addressing  them  in  the  most 
respectful  and  animating  manner,  both  as  soldiers  and  as 
Christians,  to  engage  them  to  exert  themselves  courage- 
ously, in  the  service  of  their  country.  He  continued  all 
night  under  arms.  About  three  in  the  morning,  he  called 
his  four  domestic  servants  to  him,  and  dismissed  three  of 
them  with  the  most  solemn  charges  relative  to  their  duty 
and  the  care  of  their  souls.  The  remainder  of  the  time, 
it  is  supposed  he  spent  in  his  private  devotions,  as  was  his 
usual  practice. 

The  army  was  alarmed  at  break  of  day,  by  the  noise 
of  the  enemy's  approach,  and  the  attack  was  made  before 
sunrise.  As  soon  as  the  enemy  came  within  gunshot, 
they  made  a  furious  fire.  The  Colonel,  at  the  beginning 
of  the  onset,  received  a  wound  by  a  bullet  in  his  left 
breast.  Supposing  it  to  be  only  a  wound  in  the  flesh,  he 
fought  on,  though  he  presently  after  received  a  shot  in 
his  right  thigh.  Fie  was  now  supported  by  his  officers, 
while  he  continued  to  animate  his  soldiers  by  his  pres- 
ence and  address.  Soon  after,  he  received  so  deep  a 
wound  in  his  right  arm,  that  his  sword  dropped  frcm  his 
hand,  and  he  was  dragged  from  his  horse.  When  the 
hurry  of  the  action  was  over,  he  was  found  dreadfully 
wounded,  yet  brealhing,  and  not  wholly  insensible,  though 
incapable  of  speech.  In  this  condition  he  was  taken  to 
the  minister's  house,  and  laid  in  a  bed,  v/here  he  contin- 
ued breathing,  and  frequently  groaning,  till  about  eleven 
in  the  forenoon,  when  he  took  his  final  leave  of  pain  and 
sorrow,  and,  undoubtedly,  rose  to  those  distinguished  glo- 
ries, which  are  reserved  for  those  who  have  been  so  emi- 
nently and  remarkably  faithful  unto  death. 


CHAPTER    Vlil. 
WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW. 

THE    MINISTER    MADE    A    CHRISTIAN. 

William  Grimshaw  was  born  at  Brindle,  in  Lanca- 
shire, on  the  3d  of  September,  1708.  He  received  his 
early  education  at  grammar  schools  in  that  County.  In 
this  period  of  his  hfe,  he  was  not  without  serious  reflec- 
tions on  the  interests  of  bis  own  soul,  and  the  realities  of 
an  eternal  existence.  These  thoughts  were  frequent,  yet 
transient.  During  his  connection  with  the  university  at 
Cambridge,  where  he  was  admitted  in  his  eighteenth 
year,  they  were,  to  all  appearance  totally  effaced.  He 
went  thither  professedly  with  the  view  of  obtaining  a 
preparation  for  the  gospel  ministry.  What  proficiency 
he  made  in  learning  is  not  certainly  known.  Aided,  how- 
ever, by  the  influence  of  unholy  associates,  he  soon  made 
an  alarming  proficiency  in  wickedness. 

In  the  3^ear  1731,  he  was  furnished  with  his  college 
testimonial,  which  was  then  deemed  sufficient  for  admis- 
sion to  holy  orders ;  he  was  oidained  a  deacon,  and  en- 
tered upon  the  duties  of  the  sacred  office.  Little  did  he 
reaUze  the  tremendous  responsibilities  he  thus  incurred. 
He  did  his  duty,  as  the  phrase  is,  in  the  church,  once  on 


^28  WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW. 

the  Lord's  da}^ :  that  is,  he  read  prayers  and  a  sermon. 
Whether  his  flock  were  satisfied  or  not,  he  httle  knew  nor 
cared.  His  own  conscience  was  satisfied.  He  was 
a  gentle  casuist,  a  cornphant  companion,  a  man  of  the 
world. 

Thus  he  went  on,  unconcerned  for  his  own  salvation, 
or  that  of  the  people  committed  to  his  care,  for  three  or 
four  years.  The  progress  from  bad  to  worse,  is  no  less 
natural,  and  not  much  less  common,  than  the  motion  of 
a  bowl  running  down  a  steep  hill.  It  is  generally  known 
and  acknowledged,  that  habits  gather  strength  from  time 
and  exercise.  When  therefore  an  unexpected  and  perma- 
nent change  takes  place  in  a  man's  views  and  conduct, 
so  that  he  who  was  thoughtless  and  vicious  yesterday, 
becomes  serious  and  prayerful  to-day,  all  outward  circum- 
stances remaining  the  same,  and  if  the  influence  of  this 
change  extends  to  every  faculty  and  continues  through 
life;  there  is  an  effect  produced,  for  which  only  the  Scrip- 
tures can  assign  an  adequate  cause.  There  we  find  it 
ascribed  to  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God.  It  is 
his  office  to  convince  of  sin.  He,  who  in  the  beginning 
said,  "  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was  light,"  shines 
into  the  heart  which  till  then  was  dark.  By  this  light,  a 
discovery  is  made  of  the  majesty,  holiness  and  goodness 
of  the  great  God,  which  before  was  unthoiight  of,  and 
unperceived.  For  our  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin  will  al- 
ways be  proportionate  to  the  views  we  have  of  Him 
against  whom  it  is  committed.  When  we  are  duly  ap- 
prised of  our  absolute  dependence  upon  him,  and  of  our 
obligations  to  him  as  our  Creator,  Benefactor,  and  Law- 
giver, sin  will  appear  exceedingly  sinful,  and  will  bring  a 
burden  upon  the  conscience,  which  can  only  be  removed 
by  faith  in  the  Redeemer. 


WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW.  229 

About  the  year  1734,  and  in  the  twenty-sixth  year  of 
his  age,  Mr.  Grimshaw  was  thus  powerfully  awakened 
and  alarmed,  and  he  began  to  be  concerned  in  good 
earnest  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  He  prayed  much 
and  waited  long,  before  he  experienced  that  peace  of 
mind  which  is  the  effect  of  a  lively  faith  in  the  Redeemer. 
Bnt  there  v.-as  an  immediate  and  great  change  in  his 
outward  deportment.  He  was  no  longer  a  trifler.  He 
had  now  neither  time  nor  taste  for  amusements  and  di- 
versions. He  attended  diligently  to  the  duties  of  his 
charge,  warned  his  parishioners  of  the  wrath  to  come, 
pressed  upon  them  the  necessity  of  a  religious  course  of  life, 
and  carefully  catechized  their  children ;  knowing,  and 
feeling  in  himself,  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  he  endeavored 
to  persuade  others  of  their  danger.  But  it  was  some 
time  before  his  own  experience  warranted  him  to  invite 
the  weary  and  heavy  laden  to  apply  to  Jesus,  that  they 
might  find  rest  to  their  souls. 

Thus  he  was,  in  many  respects,  a  changed  man.  He 
labored,  he  fasted,  he  prayed;  he  aimed  at  a  great  strict- 
ness and  regularity,  in  his  conduct.  But  though  he  did  and 
suffered  many  things,  like  the  woman  mentioned  by  the 
Evangelists,  Luke  8:  43,  he  found  himself  not  better  but 
worse.  His  temptations,  fears,  and  difficulties  increased. 
He  was  dismayed  by  new  and  various  discoveries  of  the 
evils  of  his  heart,  and  pestered  with  a  torrent  of  vain, 
wicked,  and  blasphemous  thoughts,  so  that  he  was  almost 
driven  to  despair. 

All  the  Lord's  people  are  not  called  to  navigate  in  these 
deep  waters  of  soul  distress;  but  many  are,  and  it  is 
frequently  the  loi  of  those  whom  he  designs  to  honor 
with  eminent  usefulness  in  the  ministry  of  his  gospel;  as 
in  a  great  building,  the   foundation  is  laid  deep,  in  pro- 


230  WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW. 

portion  to  the  height  and  weight  of  the  'intended  super- 
structure. It  is  in  this  school  of  temptation  and  exercise, 
that  they  acquire  the  tongue  of  the  learned,  and  an  abili- 
ty to  speak  a  word  in  season  to  them  that  are  weary. 
By  what  they  have  themselves  passed  through,  they  are 
taught  to  sympathize  with  their  fellow-sinners,  under 
similar  trials,  and  likewise  how  to  give  them  advice  suita- 
ble to  their  cases.  And  the  remembrance  of  their  past 
conflicts  with  a  depraved  nature,  and  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness, is  sanctified  to  keep  them  humble,  watchful,  and  de- 
pendent in  their  future  course. 

His  troubles  were  aggravated  by  not  having  any  kind 
friend  to  whom  he  could  disclose  them ;  at  least  he  had 
no  liberty  in  his  mind  to  speak  of  them.  He  thought  the 
language  of  his  complaints  would  not  be  understood,  and 
that  he  should  be  deemed  melancholy  or  mad.  He  did 
not  then  know  that  his  case  was  far  from  singular,  but 
rather  took  it  for  granted  that  there  was  no  one  affected 
like  himself.  It  was  not  till  some  years  afterward,  that 
he  had  any  acquaintance  with  the  people  stigmatized  by 
the  name  of  Methodists.*  In  the  midst  of  all  his  dis- 
couragements, he  persevered  in  prayer,  and  in  the  study 
of  the  Scriptures;  and  in  due  time,  when  he  had  learned 
by  painful  experience  the  depravity  of  his  nature,  his 
utter  unworthiness  and  insufficiency,  his  prayers  were 
answered.  His  progress  for  a  tim.e  was  gi'adual,  like  the 
light,  which,  from  a  faint  and  scarcely  discernible  dawn, 
shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.  Then  he 
gladly  renounced  all  dependence  upon  himself  either  for 
righteousness  or  strength.  He  believed  and  was  made 
whole.     The  voice  of  that  blood  which  speaketh  better 

*  The  name  by  which  Evangelical  Christians  were  at  that  time 
known  in  England. 


WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW.  231 

things  than  the  blood  of  Abel,  proclaimed  peace  in  his 
heart.  As  the  season  of  his  consolation  approached,  his 
preaching  became  more  savory,  experimental,  and  suc- 
cessful. 

In  the  ^''ear  1742,  he  was  removed  to  the  perpetual 
curacy  of  Haworth,  near  Bradford  in  Yorkshire,  to  preach 
to  a  people,  who,  when  he  first  went  among  them,  were 
very  ignorant,  brutish,  and  wicked.  But  very  soon,  by 
the  blessing  of  God  upon  his  ministry,  this  wilderness 
assumed  the  appearance  of  a  fruitful  field,  and  the  desert 
rejoiced  and  blossomed  like  the  rose. 

It  was  a  frequent  practice  with  Mr.  Grimshaw,  from 
the  time  when  the  great  change  took  place  in  his  views 
and  conduct  to  make  and  repeat  engagements  or  coven- 
ants, by  which,  in  dependence  upon  the  strength  of  the 
Lord,  he  devoted  himself,  with  the  greatest  seriousness  and 
solemnity,  to  his  service  and  disposal.  They  were  written 
and  subscribed  by  his  own  hand. 

Many  judicious  persons  have  differed  in  their  senti- 
ments with  respect  to  the  propriety  or  utility  of  such 
written  engagements.  They  are  usually  entered  into,  if 
at  all,  in  an  early  stage  of  profession,  when,  though  the 
heart  is  warm,  there  has  been  little  actual  experience  of 
its  deceitfulness.  Frequently,  the  young  convert,  (like 
the  Israelites. when  they  saw  the  Egyptians  dead  upon 
the  shore  of  the  Red  Sea)  fondly  supposes  that  his 
warfare  is  at  an  end,  when  it  is  scarcely  begun. 
They  believed  in  the  Lord,  and  sang  his  praises;  little 
apprehending  what  a  wilderness  was  before  them.  Thus 
in  the  day  when  the  Lord  turns  our  mourning  into  joy, 
and  speaks  peace  by  the  blood  of  his  cross,  to  the  con- 
science burdened  with  guilt  and  fear,  resolutions  are 
formed,    which,  though  honest   and  sincere,  prove,  like 


232  WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW. 

Peter's  promise  to  our  Lord,  too  weak  to  withstand  the 
force  of  subsequent  unforeseen  temptations.  Such  views, 
made  in  too  much  dependence  upon  our  own  strength, 
not  only  occasion  a  further  discovery  of  our  weakness, 
but  frequently  give  the  enemy  advantage  to  terrify  and 
distress  the  mind .  Therefore  some  persons,  of  more  mature 
experience,  discountenance  the  practice  as  legal  and  im- 
proper. But  as  a  scaffold,  though  no  part  of  an  edifice,  and 
designed  to  be  taken  down  when  the  building  is  finished, 
is  yet  useful  for  a  time  in  carrying  on  the  work  ;  so  many 
young  converts  have  been  helped  by  expedients,  which, 
when  their  judgments  are  more  ripened,  and  their  faith 
more  confirmed,  are  no  longer  necessar^^  Every  true 
believer  of  course,  ought  to  devote  himself  to  the  service 
of  the  Redeemer,  yea,  he  must  and  will,  for  he  is  con- 
strained by  love.  He  will  do  it  not  once  only,  but  daily. 
And  many  who  have  done  it  in  writing,  can  look  back 
upon  the  transaction  with  thankfulness  to  the  end  of  life, 
recollecting  it  as  a  season  of  peculiar  solemnity  and  im- 
pression, accompanied  with  emotions  of  heart,  neither 
to  be  forgotten  nor  recalled.  And  the  Lord,  who  does 
not  despise  the  day  of  small  things,  nor  break  the  bruised 
reed,  nor  quench  the  smoking  flax,  accepts  and  ratifies 
the  desire ;  and  mercifully  pardons  the  mistakes  which 
they  discover,  as  they  attain  to  more  knowledge  of  him 
and  of  themselves.  And  they  are  encouraged,  if  not 
warranted,  to  make  their  surrender  in  this  manner,  by  the 
words  of  the  prophet  Isaiah ;  "  One  shall  say,  I  am  the 
Lord's,  and  another  shall  call  himself  by  the  name  of  Ja- 
cob, and  another  shall  subscribe  with  his  hand  to  the 
Lord,  and  surname  himself  by  the  name  of  Israel." 

But  Mr.  Grimshaw  was  not  a  novice   when  he  wrote 
the  followino;  dedication  of  himself  to  the  Lord's  service. 


WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW.  233 

He  mentions  one  which  was  dated  in  the  year  1738, 
which  was  probably  the  first;  another  in  the  year  1744. 
Daring  the  interval  of  fourteen  years  between  the  first 
and  the  last,  he  had  sufficient  time  to  consider,  and  recon- 
sider his  views  and  motives.  He  had  experienced  the 
consequences  of  his  engagement,  the  duties  it  required, 
and  the  difficulties  with  which  it  was  attended.  It  will 
appear  by  this  paper,  written  when  he  was  fully  engaged 
in  his  unusual  course  of  labors,  and  had  sufficient  proof 
of  the  opposition  and  trials  to  which  he  was  on  all  sides 
exposed,  for  his  indefatigable  zeal,  that  he  was  neither 
wearied  nor  intimidated.  I  shall  transcribe  the  whole 
from  the  copy  now  before  me ;  for  though  it  is  of 
some  length,  I  think  it  would  be  injured  by  abridg- 
ment, 

"Eternal  and  unchangeable  Jehovah!  Thou  great 
Creator  of  heaven  and  earth,  and  adorable  Lord  of  angels 
and  of  men  !  I  desire,  with  the  deepest  humiliation  and 
abasement  of  soul  to  fall  down  at  this  time,  in  thine  awful 
presence,  and  earnestly  pray  that  thou  wilt  penetrate  my 
heart  with  a  suitable  sense  of  thine  unutterable  and  in- 
conceivcible  glories!  Trembling  may  justly  take  hold 
upon  me,  when  I,  a  sinful  worm,  presume  to  lift  up  my 
head  to  thee  —  presunrie  to  appear  in  thy  majestic  presence 
on  such  an  occasion  as  this  !  What  is  my  nature  or 
descent,  my  character  or  desert,  that  I  should  mention  or 
desire  to  be  one  party,  in  a  covenant,  where  thou,  the 
King  of  kings,  art  the  other?  I  blush  even  to  mention 
it  before  thee.  But,  O  Lord,  great  as  is  thy  majesty,  so 
also  is  thy  mercy.  If  thou  hold  converse  with  any  of  thy 
creatures,  thy  superlatively  exalted  nature  must  stoop 
infinitely  low.  I  know  that  through  Jesus,  the  Son  of 
thy  love,  thou  condescendest  to  visit  sinful  mortals,  and 
21 


234  WILLIAM    GRIMSIIAW. 

to  allow  their  approach  to  thee,  and  their  covenant  inter- 
course with  thee.  Nay,  I  know  the  scheme  and  plan  is 
entirely  thine  own,  and  that  thou  hast  graciously  sent  to 
propose  it  unto  us  ;  as  none,  untaught  by  thee,  could  have 
been  able  to  form  it  or  inclined  to  embrace  it,  even  when 
actually  proposed. 

•'  To  thee,  therefore,  do  I  now  come,  invited  by  thy 
Son,  and  trusting  in  his  righteousness  and  grace.  Laying 
myself  at  thy  feet  with  shame  and  confusion  of  face,  and 
smiting  upon  my  breast,  saying,  with  the  humble  publi- 
can, God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner!     I  acknowledge, 

0  Loid,  that  1  have  been  a  great  transgressor.  My  sins 
have  reached  unto  heaven,  and  mine  iniquities  have  been 
lifted  up  to  the  skies.  My  base  corruptions  and  lusts 
have  numberless  ways  wrought  to  bring  forth  fruit  unto 
death.  And  if  thou  wert  extreme  to  mark  what  I  have 
done  amiss,  I  could  never  abide  in  it.  But  thou  hast 
graciously  called  me  to  return  unto  thee,  though  I  am  a 
prodigal  son,  and  a  backsliding  child.     Behold,  therefore, 

1  solemnly  come  before  thee,  O  my  Lord  !  I  come  con- 
vinced of  my  sin  and  folly.  Thou  knowest,  O  Lord,  I 
solemnl}'-  covenanted  with  thee,  in  the  year  1738 ;  and 
before  that  wonderful  manifestation  of  thyself  unto  me, 
at  church,  and  in  the  clerk's  house,  between  the  hours  of 
ten  and  two  o'clock  on  Sunday,  September  2,  1744, 1  had 
again  solemnly  devoted  myself  to  thee  on  August  8,  1744. 
And  now  once  more  and  forever,  I  most  solemnly  give 
up,  devote,  and  resign  all  I  am,  spirit,  soul,  and  body,  to 
thee,  and  to  thy  pleasure  and  command,  in  Christ  Jesus, 
my  Savior,  this  4th  day  of  December,  1752.  Sensible, 
O  Lord,  of  my  vileness  and  unworthiness,  but  yet  that  I 
am  thy  pardoned,  justified,  and  regenerated  child,  in  the 
Spirit  and  blood  of  my  dear  and  precious  Savior  Jesus 


WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW.  235 

Christ,  by  clear  experience.  Glory  bo  to  thee !  O  my 
triune  God  !  Permit'  me  to  repeat,  and  renew  my  cove- 
nant with  thee.  I  desire  and  resolve  to  be  wholly  and 
forever  thine,  in  thy  Spirit.  Blessed  God  !  I  most  sol- 
emnly surrender  myself  unto  thee.  Hear,  O  heaven,  and 
give  ear,  O  earth  !  I  avouch  this  day,  the  Lord  to  be 
my  God,  Father,  Savior,  Portion,  forever !  1  am  one  of 
his. covenant  children,  fofever  !  From  this  day,  I  sol- 
emnly renounce  all  former  lords,  world,  flesh,  and  devil, 
in  thy  name.  No  more,  directlj^  or  indirectly,  will  I  obey 
them,  I  renounced  them  many  years  ago,  and  I  renounce 
them  forever.  This  day  I  give  myself  up  to  thee,  a  liv- 
ing sacrifice,  holy  and  acceptable  unto  thee  ;  and  which 
I  know  is  my  reasonable  service ;  to  thee  1  consecrate  all 
my  worldly  possessions;  in  thy  service  I  desire  aad  pur- 
pose to  spend  all  my  time ;  desiring  thee  to  teach  me  to 
spend  every  moment  of  it  to  thy  glory,  and  the  setting 
forth  of  thy  praise,  in  every  station  and  relation  of  life,  I 
am  now  or  may  be  hereafter  in.  And  I  earnestly  pray, 
that  whatever  influence  thou  mayest  in  any  wise  give 
me  over  others,  thou  would st  give  me  strength  and  cour- 
age to  exert  it  to  the  utmost,  to  thy  glory,  resolving  not 
only  myself  to  do  it,  but  that  all  others,  so  far  as  I  can 
rationally  and  properly  influence  them,  shall  serve  the 
Lord.  In  that  course  would  I,  O  Lord,  persevere  to  my 
last  breath ;  steadfastly  praying,  that  every  day  of  my 
life  may  supply  the  defects  and  correct  the  irregularities 
of  the  former,  and  that  by  divine  grace  I  may  be  enabled, 
not  only  in  that  happy  way  to  hold  on,  but  to  grow  daily 
more  active  in  it.  Nor  do  I  only  consecrate  all  I  have 
to  thy  service,  but  I  also  most  humbly  resign  and  submit 
to  thy  holy  and  sovereign  will,  all  that  I  have.  I  leave, 
O  Lord,  to  thy  management  and  direction,  all   1  possess, 


236  WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW. 

and  all  I  wish,  and  set  every  enjoyment  and  interest  be- 
fore thee,  to  be  disposed  of  as  thou  pleasest.  Continue  or 
remove  what  thou  hast  given  me,  bestow  or  refuse  what 
I  imagine  I  want,  as  thou  seest  good  ;  and  though  I  dare 
not  say,  I  will  never  repine,  yet  I  hope  I  may  say,  I  will 
labor  not  only  to  submit,  but  to  acquiesce;  not  only  to 
bear  thy  heaviest  afflictions  on  me,  but  to  consent  to  them, 
and  praise  thee  for  them ;  contentedly  resolving  in  alt  thy 
appointments,  my  will  into  thine;  esteeming  myself  as 
nothing,  and  thee,  O  God,  as  the  great  Eternal  all,  whose 
word  should  determine,  and  whose  power  should  order  all 
things  in  the  world. 

•'  Use  me,  O  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  as  the  instrument  of 
thy  glory ;  and  honor  me  so  far,  as  either  by  doing  or 
suffering  thy  appointments,  I  may  bring  praise  to  thy 
name,  and  benefit  to  the  world  in  which  Hive.  And  may 
it  please  thee  from  this  daj^  forward  to  number  me  among 
thy  peculiar  people,  that  I  may  no  more  be  a  stranger  and 
foreigner,  but  a  fellow-citizen  with  the  saints,  and  of  the 
household  of  God.  Receive,  O  heavenly  Father,  being 
already  washed  in  thy  blood,  and  clothed  with  thy  righte- 
ousness, me,  thy  child,  and  sanctify  me  throughout,  by 
the  power  of  thy  Holy  Spirit.  Destroy,  I  beseech  thee, 
more,  the  power  of  sin  in  my  heart ;  transform  me  more 
into  thine  image;  and  fashion  me  into  the  resemblance  of 
Jesus,  whom  I  would  henceforth  ever  acknowledge  as  my 
Teacher  and  Sacrifice,  my  Intercessor,  and  my  Lord. 
Communicate  unto  me,  I  beseech  thee,  all  needful  influ- 
ences of  thy  purifying,  cheering,  comforting  Spirit ;  and 
lift  lip  that  light  of  thy  countenance  upon  me,  w^hich 
will  put  the  sublimest  joy  and  gladness  into  my  heart. 

"  Dispose  my  affairs,  O  God,  in  a  manner  which  may 
be  wholly  subservient  to  thy  glory,   and  my  own  true 


WILLIAM    GRIMSHaW.  2o7 

happiness ;  and  when  I  have  done,  borne,  and  endured 
thy  will  upon  earth,  call  me  hence  at  what  time,  and  in 
what  manner  thou  pleasest.  Only  grant,  that  in  my  dy- 
ing moments,  and  the  near  approach  of  eternity,  I  may 
remember  these  my  engagements  to  thee,  and  may  employ 
my  latest  breath  in  thy  service.  A  nd  do  thou,  when  thou 
seest  me  in  the  agonies  of  death,  remember  this  covenant 
too,  though  I  should  be  incapable  of  recollecting  it.  Lock 
down  upon  me,  O  Lord,  thy  languishing  dying  child  ; 
place  thine  everlasting  arms  underneath  m}^  head  ;  put 
strength  and  confidence  in  my  departing  spirit,  and  receive 
it  to  the  embraces  of  thine  everlasting  love  !  Welcome 
it  to  the  abodes  of  those  who  sleep  in  Jesus,  who  are  with 
him  above,  to  wait  with  them  that  glorious  day,  when 
the  last  of  thy  promises  to  thy  people  shall  be  fulfilled  in 
their  triumphant  resurrection,  and  that  abundant  entrance 
which  shall  be  administered  unto  them,  into  that  ever- 
lasting kingdom  of  which  thou  hast  assured  them  by  thy 
covenant;  in  the  hope  of  w4iich  I  now  lay  hold  of  it, 
desiring  to  live  and  die  with  my  hand  upon  that  hope. 

"And  when  I  am  thus  numbered  with  the  dead,  and 
all  the  interests  of  mortality  are  over  with  me,  forever ;  if 
this. solemn  memorial  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  any 
surviving  friends  or  relatives,  may  it  be  the  means  of 
making  serious  impressions  upon  their  mind ;  and  may 
they  read  it,  not  only  as  my  language,  but  as  their  own; 
and  learn  to  fear  the  Lord  my  God,  and  with  me,  to  put 
their  trust  under  the  shadow  of  his  wings  for  time,  and 
for  eternit}'.  And  may  they  also  learn  to  adore  wiih  me, 
that  grace  which  inclines  our  hearts  to  enter  into  the 
covenant,  and  condescend  to  admit  us  into  it,  when  so 
inclined  ;  ascribing  with  me,  and  with  all  the  nations  of 
the  redeemed,  to  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  that 
*21 


238  WILLIAM    grimshaW. 

glory,  honor,  and  praise,  which  is  so  justly  due  to  each 
divine  Person,  for  the  part  he  bears  in  this  ihustrious  work. 
Amen.  I  solemnly  subscribe  this  dedication  of  myself  to 
the  forever  blessed  triune  God,  in  the  presence  of  angels^ 
and  all  invisible  spectators,  this  fourth  day  of  December, 

1752. 

William  Grimshaw, 

Minister  of  HaicorthP 
"  I  renewed  this  solemn  dedication  in   a  most  awful 
manner,  5th  of  June,  1760.     Oh  !  that  day  !     May  I  care- 
fully remember  and  keep  it ! 

"  I  proposed  to  renew  this  dedication  with  a  quarterly 
fast,  the  first  Friday  in  January,  April,  July,  and  October, 
during  life." 

I  cannot  pass  unnoticed  the  extraordinary  circumstan- 
ces to  which  he  himself  refers  in  the  above  paper,  as 
taking  place  in  the  church  of  Haworth  and  in  his  clerk's 
house,  on  Sunday,  the  2nd  of  September,  1744.  Dr. 
Doddridge  is  supposed  to  allude  to  the  same  fact,  when, 
giving  an  account  of  the  wonderful  impression  made  upon 
the  mind  of  Colonel  Gardiner,  which  issued  in  his  happy 
conversion,  he  speaks  of  a  respectable  clergyman  of  the 
Established  Church,  who  had  experienced  something  of 
a  similar  kind.  1  have  had  several  long  and  interesting 
conversations  with  Mr.  Grimshaw,  but  never  heard  him 
mention  it;  and  I  do  not  find  that  such  of  his  intimate 
friends  as  are  yet  living,  were  acquainted  with  many  of 
the  particulars  related  in  a  letter  published  in  the  Evan- 
gelical Magazine,  for  November,  1794.  But  as  the  wri- 
ter of  that  letter,  the  late  Mr.  Joseph  Williams  of  Kidder- 
minster, was  a  man  of  unquestionable  veracity,  so  far  as 
he  had  the  account  which  he  gives  from  Mr.  Grimshaw's 
own  mouth,  I  am  not  disposed  to  controvert  it. 


WlLtlAM    'gRIMSHAW.  2S9 

When  the  Apostle  Paul  told  Agrippa  that  the  Lord 
Jesus  appeared  to  him  on  his  way  to  Damascus,  Festus, 
who  seems  to  have  had  a  candid  opinion  of  his  integrity, 
could  only  account  for  his  relating  so  strange  a  story,  by 
supposing  he  was  mad.  But  the  relation  was  confirmed 
by  the  effects.  It  was  known  to  many  who  then  heard 
him,  that  when  he  left  Jerusalem,  he  was  filled  with  rage 
and  enmity  against  the  disciples,  and  that  the  intent  of 
his  journey  was  to  bring  as  many  of  them  as  he  could  in 
bonds  to  the  high  priest  and  council,  from  whom  he  had 
received  commission  and  authority  for  that  purpose.  It 
was  equally  notorious  that  he  had  entered  Damascus 
with  very  different  views;  that  he  immediately  associated 
with  the  people  whom  he  had  hated  and  despised,  and 
from  that  time  was  a  zealous  preacher  of  the  faith  he 
had  formerly  labored  to  destroy.  Though  his  old  friends 
had  become  his  bitter  enemies,  though  stripes,  bonds,  and 
imprisonments  awaited  him  in  every  place,  and  the  Jews 
were  continually  thirsting  for  his  blood,  he  persevered  in 
his  labors,  undism.ayed  by  hardships  or  difficulties,  to  the 
end  of  his  life.  A  change  of  conduct  so  sudden,  and  so 
permanent,  must  have  a  proportionate  cause.  The  Apos- 
tle assigned  the  true  cause,  and  they  who  refuse  to  be- 
lieve him  will  never  be  able  to  assign  another  that  can 
account,  even  to  their  own  satisfaction,  for  his  subsequent 
conduct. 

Thus,  if  Colonel  Gardiner,  after  declaring,  that  at  a 
moment  when  he  expected  nothing  iess,  he  thought  he 
saw  a  visible  representation  of  our  Lord  and  Savior,  as 
hanging  upon  the  cross,  had  continued  in  the  same  course 
of  dissipation,  profligacy,  and  folly,  as  before,  we  might 
with  reason,  have  supposed  it  a  delusion,  and  have  as- 
cribed it  to  a  distempered   imagination.     But  he  likewise 


^40  ,  WILLIAM    GRIMSMAW. 

became  an  altered,  or  rather  a  new  man,  from  that  hour. 
Evil  propensities,  to  which  he  had  been  before  so  habitu- 
ated and  enslaved,  that  he  had  thought  it  impossible  to 
overcome  them,  lost  their  power  from  that  time.  The 
love  of  Christ  constrained  him;  he  was  no  longer  a  liber- 
tine. He  then  found  very  different  employment  for  his 
time,  talents,  and  influence.  I  need  not  enlarge;  his 
character  as  a  Christian  and  an  officer,  is  well  known. 
He  who,  while  he  was  envied  by  his  companions  for  his 
adroitness  and  success  in  modish  wickedness,  had  often 
wished  himself  a  dog,  found  true  happiness  where  it  can 
alone  be  found,  in  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
him  crucified.  He  adorned  the  gospel  which  he  profess- 
ed, living  and  dying ;  and  by  his  wise,  consistent,  hum- 
ble and  examplary  conduct,  extorted  the  respect  of  many 
who  affected  to  despise  it. 

The  best  account  I  have  met  with  of  the  incident  to 
which  Mr.  Grirashaw  refers  on  Sept.  2,  1744,  and  which 
I  think  may  be  credited,  was  given  by  a  person  who  then 
lived  with  him  as  a  servant,  to  the  following  purport :  — 
That  she  was  called  up  that  morning  at  five  o'clock,  but 
found  her  master  was  risen  before  her,  and  was  retired 
into  a  private  room  for  prayer.  After  remaining  there 
some  time,  he  went  to  a  house  in  Haworth,  where  he  was 
engaged  awhile  in  religious  exercises  with  some  of  his 
people ;  he  then  returned  home,  and  retired  for  prayer 
again,  and  from  thence  to  church.  She  believes  he  had 
not  eaten  anything  that  morning.  While  reading  the 
second  lesson  h^  fell  down ;  he  was  soon  helped  up,  and 
led  out  of  the  church.  He  continued  to  talk  to  the  peo- 
ple as  he  went,  and  desired  them  not  to  disperse,  for  he 
hoped  he  should  return  to  them  soon,  and  he  had  some- 
thing extraordinary  to  say  to  them.     They  led  him  to 


WILLIAM     GRIMSHAW.  241 

the  clerk's  house,  where  he  lay  seemingly  insensible. 
She,  and  others,  were  employed  in  rubbing  his  limbs 
which  were  exceedingly  cold,  with  warm  clothes.  After 
some  time  he  came  to  himself,  and  seemed  to  be  in  great 
rapture.  The  first  words  he  spoke  were,  "  I  have  had  a 
glorious  vision  from  the  third  heaven."  But  she  does  not 
remember  that  he  made  any  mention  of  what  he  had 
seen.  In  the  afternoon  he  performed  service  in  the  chui*cb, 
which  began  at  two  o'clock,  and  preached  and  spoke  so 
long  to  the  people,  that  it  was  seven  in  the  evening  be- 
fore he  returned  home.  So  far  the  testimony  of  his  ser- 
vant. 

We  have  the  canon  of  Scripture  complete.  The  whole 
is  given  by  inspiration  of  God,  and  is  of  itself,  when  right- 
ly understood,  and  duly  regarded,  sufficient  to  make  both 
minister  and  people,  thoroughly  furnished  for  every  good 
work.  We  have  now  neither  need  nor  warrant  to  expect 
visions,  voices,  or  trances,  either  for  our  instrucUon  or  for 
our  consolation.  If  a  person  were  to  tell  me  that  his  re- 
ligious experience  was  of  this  extraordinary  nature,  1 
should  at  first  be  disposed  to  distrust  either  his  judgment 
or  his  veracity.  But  if  he  spoke  of  it  as  what  had  hap- 
pened to  him  twenty  years  ago,  and  I  knew  that  during 
all  those  years  he  had  maintained  an  honorable,  circum- 
spect, and  useful  profession,  I  should  think  I  could  not 
refuse  to  believe  him.  Thus  I  judge  in  Mr.  Grimshaw's 
case.  The  occurrence  is  recorded  in  a  paper  drawn  up, 
in  the  most  solemn  manner,  as  in  the  immediate  presence 
of  the  Almighty,  in  a  paper  which,  perhaps,  no  person 
ever  saw  during  his  life-time.  Had  he  been  fond  of  men- 
tioning it,  I  should  probably  have  heard  it  from  himself, 
for  I  was  frequently  with  him  during  the  few  years  of  our 


242  WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW. 

acquaintance.  For  some  time  before  this  event,  and  for 
many  years  after,  his  truth  and  integrity  were  unques- 
tionable. 

The  powers  of  the  human  mind,  when  cuhivated  by 
education,  and  habituated  to  reflection,  are  certainly  ca- 
pable of  great  exertions,  but  its  researches  are  in  many  re- 
spects limited  within  narrow  and  mortifying  boundaries. 
Man  can  calculate  to  a  minute,  an  eclipse  that  shall 
happen  five  hundred  years  hence  ;  but  he  knows  not  what 
changes  may  take  place  the  next  day  or  hour  in  his  most 
interesting  concerns.  He  attempts  to  measure  the  earth, 
to  weigh  the  subtle  air,  and  almost  to  number  and  mar- 
shal the  stars.  But  while  he  prides  himself  in  his  excur- 
sions abroad,  he  is  a  stranger  at  home.  He  is  conscious 
of  an  active,  sentient  principle  within,  which  pervades  and 
governs  the  wonderful  mechanism  of  his  earthly  taberna- 
cle; but  how  body  and  spirit  are  united,  and  in  what 
manner  they  act  upon  each  other,  is  no  less  inexplicable 
to  the  philosopher  than  to  the  clown.  Our  perceptions 
are  obtained  through  the  medium  of  our  bodily  organs, 
but  we  cannot  account  for  the  actual  or  possible  effect  of 
a  slight  alteration  in  the  animal  system,  nor  how  a  blow 
on  the  head,  or  the  ravages  of  a  fever,  can  suddenly  trans- 
form a  wise  man  into  an  idiot.  We  use  the  words  mem- 
ory and  imagination  as  if  we  understood  them  ;  but  how 
we  can  retain,  combine  and  diversify,  the  numberless  va- 
rious ideas  which  we  can  receive  from  our  senses,  is  a  se- 
cret, a  mystery,  which  lies  far  beyond  the  grasp  of  hu- 
man comprehension.  And  yet,  vain  man,  who  would  be 
deemed  wise,  though  he  is  ignorant  as  the  wild  ass's  colt, 
presumes  to  determine  what  is,  or  is  not  credible,  by  the 
standard  of  his  own  defective  and  prejudiced  judgment ! 

Infidels  and  sceptics  think  themselves  at  liberty  to  dis^ 


WILLIAM    GKIMSHAW.  243 

pute  or  deny  the  reality  of  whatever  does  not  fall  under 
the  cognizance  of  their  senses.  They  disdain  to  listen  to 
argiirnents  taken  from  the  Scriptures  of  truth  ;  but  they 
judge  no  less  inconsistently  with  the  principles  of  sound 
philosophy,  to  which  they  vainly  pretend.  With  equal  rea- 
son, a  man  born  blind  might  deny  the  possibility  of  a 
rainbow.  We  cannot  describe  it  to  him,  and  he  might 
say,  he  will  not  believe  there  is  such  a  thing,  because  he 
can  neither  hear  it,  nor  feel  it.  The  rainbow  can  only 
be  perceived  by  sight,  and  he  is  blind.  If  we  argue  from 
analog^/,  it  is  at  least  highly  probable  that  there  may  be 
innumerable  objects  as  near  to  us,  as  any  with  which  we 
are  acquainted,  but  of  which  we  can  form  no  conception, 
for  want  of  suitable  faculties.  We  know  not  but  that  he 
who  gave  us  the  five  inlets  of  perception,  which  we  call 
the  senses,  might,  if  he  so  pleased,  have  given  us  fifty,  all 
as  distinct  from  each  other,  and  as  different  in  their  mode 
of  operation,  as  our  sight  is  from  our  hearing. 

How  various  are  the  gradations  of  life  with  which  we 
are  acquainted,  from  an  oyster  or  an  em.met,up  to  a  man  ! 
Will  reason  warrant  us  to  conclude  that  this  gradation 
stops  with  us?  Rather,  considering  the  im.mensity  of  the 
universe,  is  it  not  reasonable  almost  to  take  it  for  granted, 
without  expr(^ss  information,  that  there  may  be  as  many 
ranks  of  creatures  superior  to  us,  as  we  know  there  are 
below  us  ?  They  who  believe  the  Scriptures  cannot  doubt 
but  there  are  innumerable  intellectual  beings,  whose 
agency,  though  seldom  or  faintly  perceived  by  us,  is  con- 
versant with  our  concerns.  We  read  of  angels,  princi- 
palities, and  powers,  in  the  unseen  world.  We  are  assured 
that  the  holy  angels,  the  "worshipping  spirits  before  the 
throne  of  God,  are  sent  forth  to  minister  to  the  heirs  of 
salvation.     And  we  know,  not  from  Scripture  only,  but 


244  WILLIAM     GRIMSHAW. 

from  experience,  that  there  are  evil  and  malignant  spirits 
who,  so  far  as  they  are  permitted,  (for  they  are  conquered 
enemies,  and  cannot  ^o  beyond  their  chain,)  are  active 
and  industrious  to  deceive  or  to  disturb  the  mind  of  mor- 
tals. Infidels  may  and  do,  boldly  deny  these  things, 
but  we  are  certain  they  cannot  disprove  them.  However, 
I  have  little  hope  of  repressing  the  daring  infidel,  and 
Sadducean  spirit,  which  marks  the  character  of  the  pres- 
ent day,  nor  do  I  write  professedly  for  such.  We  who 
believe  the  Scriptures,  are  satisfied  upon  this  head,  nor 
would  others  be  persuaded,  though  one  should  rise  from 
the  dead. 

When  Stephen  was  stoned  by  his  persecutors,  he  said, 
'  Behold,  I  see  the  heavens  opened,  and  Jesus  standing  at 
the  right  hand  of  God.'  He  could  scarcely  mean  by  this 
expression,  an  opening  in  the  visible  sky,  through  which 
he  saw  the  Savior,  beholding  him  as  from  a  distance. 
The  opening  was  doubtless  in  his  own  mind.  So  the 
apostle  Paul  informs  us  he  was  taken  up  into  the  third 
heavens,  and  that  during  his  rapture,  he  could  not  tell 
whether  he  was  in  the  body  or  out  of  it;  that  is,  as  I 
conceive,  his  bodily  powers  were  so  overwhelmed  and 
locked  up  by  the  heavenly  vision,  that  he  could  take  no 
notice  of  the  external  objects  around  him.  He  expresses 
his  situation  upon  this  or  some  similar  occasion,  by  say- 
ing, '  While  I  was  in  the  temple  praying,  I  was  in  a 
trance.' 

A  trance  signifies  a  temporary  suspension  of  the  animal 
faculties ;  we  may  call  it  a  waking  dream.  Perhaps 
there  is  a  faculty  in  the  human  constitution  adapted  to 
an  intercourse  with  the  intellectual  world,  as  our  natural 
senses  are  to  the  objects  which  at  present  surround  us,  but 
which   faculty  is   dormant  while  we  are  in  health  and 


WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW.  245 

distinctly  awake,  unless  when  God  is  pleased,  in  some 
extraordinary  cases,  to  call  it  into  exercise.  And  then  in- 
visibles are  seen,  and  uniUterables  are  heard.  Thus  in 
answer  to  Elisha's  prayer,  the  Lord  opened  the  eyes  of 
his  servant  (the  eyes  of  the  mind:)  and  he  instantly  saw 
that  the  mountain  was  full  of  horses  and  chariots  of  fire. 
They,  or  the  things  emblematically  represented  by  them, 
were  there  before,  but  till  his  eyes  were  in  that  manner 
opened  he  could  not  perceive  them. 

Though  instances  of  this  kind  are  not  to  be  expected, 
nor  should  credit  ever  be  lightly  given  to  those  who  pro- 
fess to  have  experienced  them,  yet  something  very  anal- 
agous  is  frequently  observable  in  dying  persons.  In  that 
solemn  period,  when  flesh  and  heart  are  failing,  the  poet's 
observation  is  often  verified  : 

•=  The  soul's  dark  cottage,  tatter'd  and  decay'd, 
Lets  in  new  light  through  chinks  that  time  has  made.' 

Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  !  We  have 
been  eye-witnesses  to  the  transports  of  many.  '  And  it 
does  not  appear  that  either  old  age  or  great  knowledge,  or 
long  experience,  afford  any  considerable  advantage  in  a 
dying  hour;  for  when  the  heart  is  duly  humbled  for  sin, 
and  the  hope  solidly  fixed  upon  the  Savior,  persons  of 
weak  capacities  and  smeill  attainments,  yea,  novices  and 
children,  are  enabled  to  meet  death  with  equal  fortitude 
and  triumph.  We  must  be  in  similar  circumstances  our- 
selves before  we  can  see  as  they  see,  or  possess  the  ideas 
which  they  endeavor  to  describe,  cind  which  seem  too 
great  for  the  language  of  morta-^^  to  convey.' 

Many  likewise,  who,  whild  in  health,  made  a  mock  at 
sin,  and  treated  religion  with  contempt,  have  not  been 
able  to  conceal  their  ^'error  and  amazement,  when  com- 
pelled to  look  deauH  in  the  face.     To  them  the  opening 


2: 


246  WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW. 

views  of  an  eternal  state  have  been  dark  and  terrifying 
to  an  extreme.  •  What  was  once  slighted  as  a  fable,  is 
now  seen  and  felt  as  a  reality.  Such  cases  I  am  afraid 
are  frequent.  But  they  are  suppressed,  ascribed  to  the 
violence  of  the  fever,  and  forgotten,  as  soon  as  possible. 
Yet  they  sometimes  transpire.'  And  frequently,  one 
harbinger  of  death  is  an  anticipation  of  joy  or  woe,  too 
great  for  utterance. 

Returning  from  this  digression,  Mr  Newton  proceeds 
to  delineate  the  character  of  Mr.  Grimshaw,  as  a  preacher, 
a  pastor  and  a  Cliristian,  atVreat  length,  and  with  a  mas- 
ter's hand.  But  we  cannot  follow  him  in  this  brief  me- 
moir. Suffice  it  to  say,  that  though  the  people  at  Ha- 
worth  were  for  the  most  part  extremely  ignorant  and  stu- 
pidly irreligious,  when  Mr.  Grimshaw  settled  among  them, 
the  terror  and  energy  of  his  preaching  soon  engaged  their 
attention.  He  was  pressed  in  spirit  —  he  spoke  with 
earnestness  and  authority  —  and  '  his  labor  was  not  in  vain 
in  the  Lord.'  A  power  from  on  high  applied  to  the  heart 
what  he  would  only  declare  to  the  ear.  The  effects  of  his 
plain  and  pungent  ministry  were  soon  visible.  While 
some  marked  and  opposed,  a  growing  number  were  soon 
distinguished,  not  only  by  a  change  in  their  views  and 
sentiments,  but  in  their  tempers  and  conduct.  Sin  was 
in  many  instances  forsaken  and  discountenanced;  the 
drunkard  became  sober,  the  idle  industrious ;  profaneness 
gave  place  to  prajer,  and  riot  to  decorum. 

If  his  preaching  i^ad  been  confined  to  his  own  parish 
church,  he  would  not  have  labored  in  vain.  It  might  be 
said  of  many  w^ho  heard  h-.m  there, '  The  people  who  sat 
in  darkness  have  seen  a  great  V^ht.'  They  were  turned 
from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God.  But  his  zeal  and 
his  desire  to  be  useful  to  the  souls  of  men,  made  him  read- 


WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW.  247 

ily  accept  invitations  to  visit  and  preach  in  other  parishes. 
His  constitution  was  strong,  his  health  firm,  his  spirits 
good,  and  his  zeal  ardent.  He  was  able  to  bear  much 
fatigue  and  hardship,  and  he  did  not  spare  himself.  The 
love  of  Christ  constrained  him.  Without  intermitting 
his  stated  service  at  home,  he  went  much  abroad.  In  a 
course  of  time,  he  established  two  circuits,  which,  with 
some  occasional  visitations,  he  usually  traversed  every  week 
alternately.  One  of  these  he  pleasantly  called  his  idle 
week,  because  he  seldom  preached  more  than  twelve  or 
fourteen  times.  His  sermons  in  his  working  or  busy 
week,  often  exceeded  twenty-four,  and  sometimes  thirty. 
So  great  was  the  interest  felt  in  his  earnest  and  evangeli- 
cal exhibitions  of  truth,'  that  numbers  flocked  to  his 
church  from  a  great  distance.  —  He  had  hearers  who 
came  statedly  ten  or  twelve  miles,  for  years  together ; 
and  were  seldom  prevented,  either  by  severe  weather,  or 
bad  roads. 

But  we  must  hasten  to  the  closing  scene  of  his  active 
and  useful  life.  In  the  spring  of  1763,  Haworth  was 
visited  by  a  putrid  fever  of  which  many  persons  died. 
Mr.  Grimshaw  had  a  strong  presage  upon  his  mind,  that 
some  one  of  his  own  family  would  be  added  to  the  num- 
ber, and  he  repeatedly  exhorted  them  all  to  be  ready,  as 
he  knew  not  which  of  them  it  might  be.  As  to  himself, 
it  was  not  for  a  man  of  his  mind  and  spirit,  to  dechne 
the  calls  of  duty  and  affection,  from  any  apprehension  of 
danger.  He  caught  the  infection,  and  from  the  first  of 
the  attack,  expected  and  welcomed  the  approach  of 
death.  He  knew  whom  he  believed,  and  felt  his  support 
in  the  trying  hour. 

While  death  pointed  his  javeline  to  his  heart,  he  beheld 
the  face  of  this  king  of  terrors,  as  it  were  the  face  of  an 


248  WILLIAM    GRIMSHAW. 

angel.  He  said,  "  Never  had  I  such  a  visit  from  God 
since  I  knew  him."  To  one  of  his  friends  who  asked 
him  how  he  did,  he  answered,  "  As  happy  as  I  can  be 
on  earth,  and  as  sure  of  glory  as  if  I  was  in  it."  He  is 
reported  to  have  said  to  his  house-keeper,  O  Mary,  I  have 
suffered  last  night  what  the  blessed  martyrs  did;  my 
flesh  has  been  as  it  were  roasting  before  a  hot  fire.  But 
I  have  nothing  to  do,  but  to  step  out  of  my  bed  into 
heaven.  I  have  my  foot  upon  the  threshold  already." 
And  thus  he  entered  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord,  aged  fifty- 
five.  How  can  infidelity  itself  refrain  from  exclaiming,, 
"  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last 
end  be  like  his  !  " 


CHAPTER    IX. 
TH03IAS    BATEMAN,    M.  D.* 

THE    SCEPTICAL    PHYSICIAN. 

Dr.  Bateman  settled  in  London  soon  after  his  gradua- 
tion at  Edinburgh  in  the  year  1801 ;  and  his  professional 
merits  being  very  considerable,  he  was  speedily  elected 
physician  to  two  public  institutions  —  a  large  Dispensary, 
and  the  House  of  Recovery  for  Fever.  He  continued  to 
distinguish  himself,  as  he  had  done  in  Edinburgh,  by  his 
zeal  and  industry  in  the  pursuit  of  science  and  literature  ; 
though  he  contrived  to  mix  with  his  severer  studies  a  large 
portion  of  the  dissipations  of  gay  society,  and  carried  with 
him,  into  both  these  opposite  pursuits,  an  energy  of  mind 
and  of  feeling  which  rendered  him  more  than  ordinarily 
susceptible  of  the  enjoyments  which  either  of  them  can 
efford.  He  always  retained  a  high  "sense  of  honor,"  as 
it  is  called,  and  was  strictly  careful  to  avoid,  in  all  his 
conduct,  every  thing  that  the  world  esteems  discreditable. 

He  lived,  however,  to  see  and  to  "feel,  what  at  that  time 
he  had  no  conception  of,  how  meagre  a  system  of  morali- 
ty is  that  which  the  world  is  satisfied  witli,  compared 

*  Abridged  from  the  Christian  Observer- 

*22 


250  THOMAS    BATElffANrf 

with  the  comprehensive  morality  of  the  gospel  —  that 
Christian  holiness,  without  which  "  no  man  shall  see  the 
Lord."  His  habits  of  life  thus  concurring  with  the  natu- 
ral corruption  of  the  human  heart,  and  estranging  him 
more  and  more  from  God,  he  became  confirmed  in  his 
leaning  to  the  wretched  doctrine  of  materialism,  which 
he  had  been  already  tempted  to  adopt  during  the  pursuit 
of  his  anatomical  and  phj^siological  studies  at  Edinburgh. 
This  lamentable  tendency  was  strongly  increased  by  the 
society  which  he  now  fell  into,  of  some  men  of  considera- 
ble talent,  who  had  already  espoused  all  the  principles  of 
that  unphilosophical,  as  well  as  unchristian  system  ;  and 
though  never  able  fully  to  embrace  those  opinions  him- 
self, he  was  yet  sufficiently  influenced  by  them  to  become 
sceptical  respecting  the  truth  of  Divine  Revelation,  and 
was,  therefore,  of  course,  a  stranger  to  the  hopes,  as  well 
as  negligent  of  the  duties  of  Christianity. 

In  the  summer  of  1815,  his  health  began  to  decline, 
and  in  the  following  year  a  complaint  of  his  eyes  came 
on,  which  threatened  loss  of  sight,  and  precluded  him 
from  all  his  accustomed  sources  of  occupation  and  amuse- 
ment. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  writer  of  this  memoir 
became  his  constant  companion  and  attendant ;  and  for 
four  years  had  the  misery  of  witnessing  his  total  estrange- 
ment from  God  and  religion.  His  health  continuing  to 
decline,  he  left  London  in  July,  1819,  with  an  intention 
of  trying  the  effect  of  a  sulphurous  water  at  Middletown, 
in  the  county  of  Durham,  on  his  debiliated  constitution. 
He  was  taken  ill  on  the  road,  and  with  difficulty  reached 
a  village,  near  Beverlj^  in  Yorkshire ;  where  he  was 
obliged  to  remain  during  the  following  winter ;  and  find- 
ing, at  length,  that  his  health  required  the  sacrifice,  he 
finally  determined  not  to  attempt  returning  to  London. 


THOMAS    EATEMAN.  251 

He  had  for  some  time  been  subject  to  attacks  of  the 
most  alarming  nervous  languor,  during  which  he  was 
thought  by  all  around  him,  as  well  as  by  himself,  to  be 
dying,  and  these  now  returned  upon  him  continually,  es- 
pecially after  using  the  least  bodily  exertion.  During 
the  winter  he  was  considerably  better;  but  on  the  return 
of  warm  weather,  early  in  the  spring  of  1820,  he  had  a 
severe  attack  of  languor,  after  a  short  ride. 

His  dread  of  these  attacks  was  so  great,  and  they  were 
brought  on  so  frequently,  by  the  smallest  fatigue,  that  he 
gradually  relinquished  all  exertion,  as  he  even  believed 
that  the  exhaustion  which  would  be  produced  by  the 
effort  of  walking  across  a  room,  might  prove  fatal. 

It  was  on  Sunday,  the  9th  of  April,  that  he  first  spoke 
to  me  on  the  subject  of  religion.  He  had  passed  the 
whole  of  the  day  in  a  state  of  extraordinary  suffering, 
from  languor,  and  a  variety  of  nervous  feelings,  which 
he  always  said  it  was  impossible  to  describe,  farther  than 
that  they  were  inconceivably  painful  and  distressing; 
and  he  went  to  bed  with  a  firm  persuasion  that  he  should 
never  again  quit  it;  and,  in  fact,  he  did  confine  himself 
to  it  for  the  following  three  weeks,  from  the  mere  appre- 
hension of  the  consequences  of  exertion.  Religion  was  a 
subject  which,  for  many  reasons,  had  never  been  discussed 
between  us.  Though  the  tenor  of  his  life  had  made  me 
but  too  well  acquainted  with  the  state  of  his  mind,  he 
had  always  avoided  any  declaration  of  his  opinions,  know^ 
ing  the  pain  it  would  give  me  to  hear  them.  He  was 
habitually  fond  of  argument,  and  skilled  in  it;  and  I 
knew  that  I  was  quite  incompetent  to  argue  with  him. 
I  considered,  too,  that  the  habit  of  disputing  in  favor  of 
any  opinion,  only  serves,  in  general,  to  rivet  it  more  firmly 
in  the  mind :  men  commonly  find  their  own  arguments 


^52  THOMAS    BATEMAN. 

more  convincing  them  those  of  their  adversaries.  And, 
above  all,  I  knew  that  this  was  a  case  in  which  mere  ar- 
gument must  always  be  insufficient,  —  for  it  is  with  the 
heart  man  beUeveth  unto  righteousness  :  and  in  most,  if 
not  all,  cases  of  scepticism,  the  will  and  the  affectiors 
need  to  be  set  right,  even  more  than  the  understanding ; 
and  upon  these  arguments  can  have  no  influence.* 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  I  have  mentioned.  Dr.  Bate- 
man  had  been  expressing  to  me  his  conviction  that  he 
could  not  live  much  longer,  and  complaining  of  the  dread- 
ful nervous  sensations  that  continually  harassed  him ; 
and  then  he  added,  "  But  all  these  sufferings  are  a  just 
punisliment  for  my  long  scepticism,  and  neglect  of  God 
and  religion."  This  led  to  a  conversation,  in  the  course 
of  which  he  observed,  that  medical  men  were  generally 
sceptical :  and  that  the  mischief  arose  from  what  he  con- 
sidered a  natural  tendency  of  some  of  their  studies  to  lead 
to  materialism. 

I  replied  that  the  mischief  appeared  to  me  to  originate 
rather  in  their  neglect  to  examine  the  evidences  of  the 
truth  of  the  Bible,  as  an  actual  revelation  from  God ;  be- 
cause, if  a  firm  conviction  of  that  were  once  established, 
the  authority  of  the  Scripture  must  be  paramount ;  and 
the  tendency  of  all  inferior  studies,  in  opposition  to  their 
declarations,  could  have  no  weight.  He  said  be  believed 
I  was  right,  and  that  he  had,  in  fact,  been  intending  to 
examine  fully  into  the  subject,  when  the  complant  in  his 
eyes  came  on,  and  shut  him  out  from  reading.  Our  con- 
versation ended  in  his  permitting  me  to  read  to  him  the 
first  of  Scott's  "  Essays  on  the  most  important  Subjects  in 

*  There  is  vast  deal  of  true,  practical  wisdom  in  these  remarks. 

Compiler. 


THOMAS    BATEMAN.  253 

Religion,"  whicli  treats  of  "  The  Divine  Inspiration  of 
the  Scriptures." 

He  listened  with  intense  earnestness ;  and  when  it  was 
concluded,  exclaimed,  "  This  is  demonstration  !  complete 
demonstration  !"  He  then  asked  me  to  read  to  him  the 
account  given  in  the  New  Testament  of  the  resurrection 
of  our  Savior;  which  I  did  from  all  the  four  Evangelists. 
T  read,  also,  many  other  passages  of  Scripture,  with  some 
of  which  he  was  extremely  struck  ;  especially  with  that 
declaration,  that  "  The  natural  man  receiveth  not  the 
things  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  for  they  are  foolishness  unto 
him  :  neither  can  he  know  them,  because  they  are  spirit- 
ually discerned."  For  two  or  three  days  he  showed  in- 
creasing interest  in  the  subject  of  religion  ;  and  1  read  to 
him  continually  the  Scriptures,  and  other  books  which 
seemed  to  me  best  calculated  to  give  him  the  information 
he  thirsted  for.  When  I  went  into  his  room  a  few  morn- 
ings after,  he  said,  "  It  is  quite  impossible  to  describe  to 
you  the  change  which  has  taken  place  in  my  mind :  I 
feel  as  if  a  new  world  was  opened  to  me,  and  all  the  in- 
terests and  pursuits  of  this  have  faded  into  nothing,  in 
comparison  with  it.  They  seem  so  mean,  and  paltiy,  and 
insignificant,  that  my  blindness,  in  living  so  long  im- 
mersed in  them,  and  devoted  to  them,  is  quite  inconceiva- 
ble and  astonishing  to  myself."  He  often  expressed 
in  the  strongest  terms,  and  with  many  tears,  his  deep  re- 
pentance, and  his  abhorrence  of  himself  for  his  former 
sinful  life,  and  rebellion  against  God;  but  he  seemed  to 
have,  from  the  first,  so  clear  a  view  of  the  all-sufficiency 
of  the  Savior's  atonement,  and  of  the  Christian  scheme  of 
salvation,  as  freed  him,  at  once,  from  that  distrust  of  for- 
giveness which  is  so  apt  to  afflict  persons  at  the  first  sight 
of  their  sins,  and  of  the  purity  and  holiness  of  him  "  with 


254  THOMAS    BATEMAN. 

whom  they  have  to  do."  The  self-abasing  views  which 
he  entertained  of  himself,  necessarily  enhanced  his  sense 
of  the  pardoning  love  and  mercy  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus, 
thus  graciously  extended  to  him ;  and  which  he  felt  so 
strongly,  that  he  was  filled  with  the  liveliest  emotions  of 
gratitude  and  joy,  and  in  this  state  continued  for  several 
days. 

He  soon,  however,  experienced  an  afflicting  reverse  of 
feeling.  One  evening  I  left  him  to  visit  a  near  relative, 
at  that  time  confined  to  her  room  in  a  precarious  state  of 
health,  and  his  mother,  who  had  been  in  attendance  upon 
her,  took  my  place  at  the  bed-side  of  her  son.  Dr.  Bate- 
man  told  her  that  I  had  been  reading  to  him  various  de- 
tached portions  of  Scripture,  and  that  he  now  wished  to 
hear  the  New  Testamxcnt  read  regularly  through  from  the 
beginning. 

She  consequently,  began  to  read,  and  had  prooceeded 
as  far  as  the  tenth  chapter  of  St.  Matthew,  when  he  sud- 
denly exclaimed,  that  he  could  not  believe  in  the  miracles 
of  the  Savior,  and  that,  thefefore,  he  must  perish  forever. 
This  suggestion  of  his  spiritual  enemy  threw  him  into  a 
state  of  the  most  dreadful  anguish,  and  I  was  immediately 
sent  for  to  his  bed-side. 

On  my  arrival,  he  had  become  a  little  more  composed, 
but  was  still  in  great  agitation ;  and  was  praying  in 
agony,  to  be  saved,  —  not  to  be  given  up  to  this  dreadful 
state  of  unbelief.  To  comfort  his  mind,  we  said  what  we 
could  from  Scripture,  and  from  the  experience  of  other 
Christians ;  and  he  was  a  little  relieved  by  hearing  some 
passages  from  an  Essay  in  the  volume  before  mentioned, 
"  On  the  Warfare  and  Experience  of  Believers;"  finding 
that  his  was  not,  as  he  had  supposed,  a  case  of  new  oc- 
currence ;  but  that  the  author  of  that  work  was  already 


THOMAS    BATEMAN.  255 

acquainted  with  its  syaiptcms,  and  augured  favorably  of 
Ihera,  as  often  accompanying  the  progress  of  rehgion  in 
the  soul.  Still  the  idea  that  his  death  was  fast  approach- 
ing, and  that  there  was  no  hope  of  his  mind  being  con- 
vinced before  it  arrived,  quite  overwhelmed  him.  Feeling 
ourselves  to  be  very  inadequate  guides  and  comforters  in 
these  afflicting  circumstances,  we  gladly  adopted  a  sug- 
gestion of  a  friend  that  we  should  request  a  neighboring 
clergyman  of  piety  and  judgment  to  visit  him.  Dr. 
Bateman  himself  grasped  eagerly  at  the  proposal,  and  I 
wrote  immediately  to  the  clergyman  in  question  ;  but  he 
was  from  home,  and  was  not  expected  to  return  for  two 
or  three  weeks.  A  few  days  after  this  unwelcome  intel- 
ligence, Dr.  Bateman  told  me,  he  had  no  doubt  this  dis- 
appointment was  for  his  good;  and  that  it  was  better  for 
him  to  be  left  to  himself,  as  he  did  not  think  anything 
could  have  convinced  him  so  fully  of  the  efficacy  affrayer, 
as  the  sensible  relief  which  he  experienced  from  it  during 
those  conflicts  of  doubt  and  unbelief  with  which  his  mind 
continued  to  be  harassed.  He  added,  that  he  now  spent 
whole  nights  in  prayer.  He  felt  perfectly  assured,  that 
these  doubts  were  the  suggestions  of  the  great  adversary 
of  souls,  and  remarked,  that  they  were  vividly  and  mani- 
festly dashed,  as  it  were,  into  his  mind,  instead  of  arising 
from  his  own  reflections,  or  resulting  from  any  train  of 
reasoning  ;  and  the  absurdity  of  them,  in  many  instances, 
was  so  obvious,  that  his  judgment  detected  it  at  once, 
though  he  still  had  not  power  to  drive  them  from  the 
hold  they  took  on  his  imagination,  or  to  banish  them,  for 
the  time,  from  his  thoughts. 

These  paroxysms  of  distress  and  conflict,  which 
sometimes  lasted  many  hours,  he  continued  subject  to 
for  about  a  fortnight ;  but  they  gradually  became  less 


256  THOMAS    BATEMAN. 

long  and  violent,  and  he  experienced  increasingly  great 
relief  from  prayer  during  their  continuance ;  till  at  length 
thej^  subsided  entirely,  and  left  his  mind  satisfied  on  all 
those  points,  which  had  before  presented  so  many  obstacles 
to  his  belief. 

About  this  time,  he  received  an  unexpected  visit  from  a 
medical  friend,  whose  piety  and  truly  Christian  character 
distinguished  him  still  more  than  his  eminent  abilities  and 
professional  skill. 

This  gentleman,  with  great  difficulty,  succeeded  in  per- 
suading him  he  was  by  no  means  in  that  state  of  danger 
and  debility  which  he  had  apprehended,  and  that  he  had 
power  of  taking  exercise  if  he  could  but  exert  sufficient 
resolution  to  attempt  it.  Experiment  convinced  him  that 
this  opinion  was  correct ;  he  v/as  prevailed  on  to  leave  his 
bed,  and  in  a  very  few  days  was  able  to  be  some  hours  in 
the  open  air,  and  to  take  considerable  exercise ;  and  it  is 
remarkable,  that  from  this  time  he  had  no  return  of  lan- 
guor after  fatigue,  except  in  one  instance.  Thus  was  he 
delivered,  by  the  gracious  providence  of  God,  from  those 
overwhelming  apprehensions  of  immediate  death,  which 
had  been  so  instrumental  in  bringing  him  to  Christ,  as 
soon  as  they  had  effected  that  blessed  purpose. 

He  now  rarely  spoke  of  the  state  of  his  mind  and 
feelings;  for  such  was  the  extreme  reserve  of  his  char- 
acter, that  it  could  only  be  overcome  by  deep  and  power- 
ful eaiotions ;  and  when  no  longer  agitated  by  these, 
he  returned  to  his  natural  habits,  and  was  silent  on  the 
subject  that  most  deeply  interested  him.  Still  it  was 
abundantly  evident  that  it  did  interest  him.  The  avidity 
with  which  he  listened  to  the  word  of  God  —  his  eager- 
ness to  attend  public  worship,  (which  for  many  years  he 
had    entirely  neglected,)  and  the    heartfelt   and  devout 


THOMAS    BATEMAN.  257 

interest  which  he  obviously  took  in  the  service  —  his  en- 
larged and  active  benevolence —  the  change  which  had 
taken  place  in  his  tastes,  inclinations,  and  pursuits  —  all 
testified  that  he  was  indeed  brought  out  of  darkness  into 
marvellous  hght ;  "  old  things  had  passed  away,  and  all 
things  had  become  new." 

In  the  course  of  the  summer,  his  health  and  strength 
were  considerably  recruited  ;  but  towards  the  close  of  it,  a 
little  over-exertion  in  walking,  brought  on  an  accession  of 
fever,  and  a  great  aggravation  of  all  the  symptoms  of 
his  disorder ;  but  still  he  continued  able  to  take  a  little 
exercise.  While  he  remained  in  the  country,  he  had 
much  leisure,  which  was  devoted  entirely  to  religious 
reading ;  for  every  other  subject  had  now  become  insipid 
and  uninteresting  to  him ;  and  never  did  the  pursuits  of 
science  and  literature  afford  him  such  vivid  enjoyment 
as  he  now  received  from  these  hallowed  studies.  In 
November,  he  removed  to  Whitby  for  the  winter;  and  his 
health  continued  in  much  the  same  state  till  a  short  time 
before  Christmas,  when  a  walk,  rather  longer  than  usual, 
again  produced  increased  fever  and  debility ;  and  from 
that  period,  his  strength  and  appetite  visibly  declined, 
while  his  spirit  was  as  visibly  ripening  for  heaven.  His 
faith  and  patience  were  strengthened ;  his  hope  was  in- 
creased, his  charity  enlarged ;  yet  he  was  naturally  so 
extremely  reserved  in  the  expression  of  his  feelings,  that 
he  rarely  spoke  of  them  till  within  the  last  month  of  his 
life,  when  he  rejoiced  "  with  a  joy  unspeakable  and  full 
of  glory,"  which  bore  down  all  opposition;  for  he  experi- 
enced a  happmess  to  which  all  the  accumulated  enjoy- 
ments of  his  whole  previous  life  could  bear  no  proportion 
or  comparison,  even  that  "peace  of  God,"  which  '^pass- 
eth  all  understanding,"  and  which  must  be  felt,  or  at 
23 


258  THOMAS    BATEMAN, 

least  witnessed  in  order  to  form  any  just  conceptions  of  its 
nature  and  effects. 

What  a  striking  example  did  our  dying  friend  now 
exhibit  to  us!     From  his  early  youth  he  had  devoted 
himself  with  delight  and  industry  to  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge,  and  the  pursuits  of  literature  and  science; 
and  he  had  "  had  his  reward  "   in  the  honor  and  reputa- 
tion which  his  success  had  procured  for  him  —  a  reward 
which  he  keenly  enjoyed  and  very  highly  prized.     Those 
who  have  known  only  the  pleasures  which  arise  from 
worldly   gratifications,   surely   ought   to   recollect,    that, 
being  confessedly  ignorant  of  those  spiritual  enjoyments 
which  they  despise,  they  cannot  be  competent  to  decide 
upon  their  reality  or  their  value ;  it  belongs  only  to  those 
who   have  experienced   both,   to  appreciate  either.     And 
how  did  Dr.  Bateman  appreciate  them  1     In  contrasting, 
as  he  frequently  did,  his  present  happiness  with  all  that 
he  had  formerly  enjoyed  and  called  happiness,  he  seemed 
always  at  a  loss  to  find  words  to  express  how  poor,  and 
mean,  and  despicable  all  earthly  gratifications  appeared 
to  him,  when  compared  with  that  "  joy  and  peace  in  be- 
lieving," which  now  filled  his  soul :  and  "  one  particle  of 
which,"  he  sometimes  said,  "  ten  thousand  worlds  would 
not  tempt  him  him  to  part  with." 

And  it  should  be  remembered,  that  this  was  not  the 
evidence  of  a  man  disappointed  in  his  worldly  pursuits  ; 
he  had  already,  as  before  observed,  "  had  his  reward,"  in 
this  world  —  he  had  experienced  the  utmost  success  in 
the  path  which  he  had  chosen  —  he  had  been  keenly  sus- 
ceptible of  intellectual  pleasures  ;  and  of  these,  as  well  as 
of  all  inferior  amusements,  he  had  enjoyed  more  than  a 
common  portion;  but  when  the  only  object  that  can  sat- 
isfy the  affections,   and  fill  the  capacities  of  a  rational 


THOMAS    BATEMAN.  259 

and  iilimoi'tal  being  was  revealed  to  him  —  when  he 
viewed,  by  the  eye  of  faith,  that  Hfe  and  immortaUty 
which  are  brought  to  hglit  in  the  gospel  —  earthly  fame, 
and  honor,  and  pleasure  sunk  into  the  dust ;  and,  in  re- 
flecting upon  his  past  life,  the  only  thing  that  gave  him 
any  satisfaction,  was  the  hope  that  his  labors  might  have 
been  beneficial  to  his  fellow  creatures,  for  whom  his 
charity  had  now  become  unbounded.  He  often  said,  that 
"  the  blessing  of  his  conversion  was  never  out  of  his  mind, 
day  or  night;  that  it  was  a  theme  of  perpetual  thanks- 
giving ;  and  that  he  never  awoke  m  the  night  without 
being  overwhelmed  with  joy  and  gratitude  in  the  recol- 
lection of  it."  He  always  spoke  of  his  long  bodily 
afflictions,  with  the  most  devout  thankfulness,  as  having 
been  instrumental  in  bringing  him  to  God;  and  considered 
his  almost  total  blindness,  as  an  especial  mercy,  because, 
by  shutting  out  external  objects,  it  had  enabled  him  to 
devote  his  mind  more  entirely  to  spiritual  things.  Often, 
latterl3^  he  expressed  an  ardent  desire  to  "  depart  and  to 
be  with  Christ ; "  but  alwaj's  added,  that  he  was  cheer- 
fully willing  to  wait  the  Lord's  pleasure,  certain  that  if 
he  w^as  continued  in  this  world  it  was  only  for  his  own 
good,  and  to  make  him  more  "  meet  to  be  a  partaker  of 
the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light." 

He  bore  his  bodily  afflictions  with  the  most  exemplary 
patience,  and  even  cheerfulness,  and  continually  expressed 
his  thankfulness,  that  they  were  not  greater;  sometimes 
saying,  "  What  a  blessing  it  is  to  be  allowed  to  slip  gently 
and  gradually  out  of  life  as  I  am  doing  !  "  He  would 
not  allow  any  one  to  speak  of  his  sufferings,  always  say- 
ing, "  they  did  not  deserve  a  stronger  name  than  incon- 
veniences." He  neither  complained  himself,  nor  would 
permit   others   to  complain   for   him.     Once,   when   tl>e 


260  THOMAS    BATEMAN. 

nurse  who  attended  him  said,  "Oh  that  cough!  how 
troublesome  it  is !  "  he  replied,  "  Have  a  little  patience, 
nurse;  I  shall  soon  be  in  a  better  world;  and  what  a 
glorious  change  that  will  be !  "  Indeed,  the  joy  of  his 
mind  seemed  to  have  absorbed  all  sense  of  his  physical 
sufferings.  I  once  remarked  to  him,  that  he  appeared  to 
have  experienced  no  intermission  of  these  joyful  feelings  ; 
and  he  answered,  "  For  some  months  past  never,  and 
never  the  smallest  rising  of  anything  like  impatience  or 
complaint."  His  mind,  naturally  active  and  ardent,  re- 
tained all  its  powers  in  full  vigor  to  the  last  moment  of 
his  life ;  and  was  never  once  clouded,  or  debilitated,  even 
in  the  most  depressing  nervous  languor.  Indeed,  after 
the  whole  current  of  his  tastes  and  affections  had  been 
turned  into  a  new  channel,  its  ardor  and  activity  rather 
increased  than  diminished,  from  the  deep  conviction  which 
he  felt  of  the  superiority  of  his  present  views  and  pursuits, 
to  all  that  had  hitherto  engrossed  him. 

During  the  last  week  of  his  life,  especially,  the  strength 
and  clearness  of  his  intellect,  and  of  his  spiritual  percep- 
tions, were  very  remarkable ;  and  on  its  being  one  day 
observed  to  him,  that  as  his  bodily  powers  decayed,  those 
of  his  soul  seemed  to  become  vigorous,  he  replied,  •'  They 
do,  exactly  in  an  inverse  ratio ;  I  have  been  very  sensible 
of  it."  He  conversed  with  the  greatest  animation  all  the 
day,  and  almost  all  the  night,  preceding  his  death,  prin- 
cipally on  the  joys  of  heaven,  and  the  glorious  change 
he  was  soon  to  experience;  often  exclaiming,  "What  a 
happy  hour  will  the  hour  of  death  be  !  " 

He  dwelt  much  on  the  description  of  the  new  Jerusa- 
lem in  the  Revelations  of  St.  John,  and  listened  with 
great  delight,  to  several  passages  from  Baxter's  "  Saint's 
Rest,"  and  to  some  of  Watts'  hymns  on  the  same  bubject. 


"THOMAS    BATEHAX.  261 

Once  in  the  night  he  said  to  his  mother,  '  Surely  you  are 
iiot  in  tears!  Mine  is  a  case  that  calls  for  rejoicing,  and 
iiot  for  sorrow.  Only  think  what  it  will  be  to  drop  this 
poor,  frail,  perishing  body,  and  to  go  to  the  glories  that  are 
set  before  me  !  " 

Not  more  than  an  hour  before  his  death,  when  he  had 
been  expressing  his  faith  and  hope  in  very  animated 
terms,  I  remarked  to  him,  how  striking  the  uniformity  of 
faith  and  of  feeling  expressed  by  believers  at  every  dis- 
tance of  time  and  place,  and  spoke  of  it  as  an  indisputa- 
ble evidence  that  these  graces  are  wrought  by  "  one  and 
the  self-same  Spirit,"  and,  as  the  proof  of  the  truth  of  the 
Bible,  the  promises  and  descriptions  of  which  are  thus  so 
strikingly  fulfilled  and  exemplified.  He  entered  into  the 
argument  with  his  accustomed  energy,  and  assented  to 
its  truth  with  delight.  It  seemed  remarkable,  that  though 
he  had,  during  his  whole  illness,  been  very  sensible  of  his 
increasing  weakness,  and  had  watched  and  marked  ac- 
curately all  its  gradations,  yet  he  spoke,  in  the  last  mo- 
ments of  his  life,  of  going  down  stairs  as  usual,  (he  had 
been  carried  up  and  down  for  several  days,)  and  said  "  it 
could  not  require  more  than  a  few  weeks  now  to  wear 
him  out ; "  not  appearing  to  be  at  all  aware  that  his  end 
was  so  very  near,  till  about  half  an  hour  before  his  death. 
Finding  himself  extremely  languid,  he  took  a  little  milk, 
and  desired  that  air  might  be  admitted  into  the  room  ;  and 
en  being  asked  if  he  felt  relieved  at  all,  said,  "  Very  little : 
I  can  hardly  distinguish,  indeed,  whether  this  is  languor 
or  drowsiness  which  has  come  over  me ;  but  it  is  a  very 
agreeable  feeling."  Soon  after,  he  suddenly  remarked, 
"  I  surely  must  be  going  now,  my  strength  sinks  so  fast;" 
and  on  my  making  some  observation  on  the  glorious  pros- 
pect before  him,  he  added,  "  Oh,  yes !  I  am  glad  to  go,  if 
*23 


262  THOMAS    BATEMAN. 

it  be  the  Lord's  will."  He  shut  his  eyes  and  lay  quite 
composed,  and  by  and  bye  said,  "  What  glory  !  the  angels 
are  waiting  for  me  ! "  then,  after  another  short  interval  of 
quiet,  added,  "  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  soul !"  and  to  those 
who  were  about  him,  "  Farewell !  "  These  v/ere  the  last 
words  he  spoke :  he  gradually  and  gently  sunk  away, 
and  in  about  ten  minutes  breathed  his  last,  calmly,  and 
without  a  struggle,  at  nine  in  the  morning  of  the  9th  of 
April,  the  very  day  on  which,  twelve  months  before,  his 
mind  had  first  been  awakened  to  the  hopes  and  joys  of 
the  ever  blessed  gospel. 

Let  the  shallow  and  flippant  sceptic  read  this  memoir, 
and  if  he  will  not  be  convinced  that  there  is  a  glorious  re- 
ality in  the  rehgion  of  the  Bible,  let  him  "  behold  and  de- 
spise and  wonder  and  perish."  No  one  can  deny  that  Dr. 
Bateman  possessed  a  vionorous  and  independent  mind, 
and  that  he  was  less  liable  than  most  men  to  be  swayed 
by  inconclusive  arguments,  or  any  delusive  impulse.  He 
felt  all  the  aversion  of  a  proud  and  philosophic  unbeliever, 
to  the  searching  and  arousing  truths  of  the  Bible.  Noth- 
ing seemed  more  improbable,  either  to  himself  or  his 
friends,  than  a  radical  change  of  his  religious  opinions. 
And  yet,  no  sooner  did  he  turn  his  thoughts  seriously  to 
the  evidences  of  revealed  religion,  than  the  fabric  of  ma- 
terialism, which  he  had  been  long  trying  to  build  up,  be- 
gan to  crumble.     He  could  not  support  it  for  an  hour. 

The  truth  of  God  flashed  in  like  a  sunbeam  upon  his 
mind,  and  he  saw  and  believed. 

Let  those  who  are  "  going  about  to  establish  their  own 
righteousness,  and  will  not  submit  themselves  to  the  right- 
eousness of  God,"  mark  well  the  convictions  of  Dr.  Bate- 
man's  mind,  touching  the  only  way  of  justification  for  a 
sinner.     How  convulsively,   I   had  alm.ost  said,  did   he 


THOMAS    BATEMAN.  263 

cling  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  as  his  only  hope !     How  deep- 
ly did  he  loathe  and  abhor  himself! 

Let  Christians  read  this,  and  magnify  the  grace  of  God, 
as  displayed  in  the  conversion,  subsequent  life  and  trium- 
phant death  of  Dr.  Bateman.  What  but  the  new  creating 
energy  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  could  ever  have  wrought  such 
a  change  as  he  evidently  experienced?  What  other 
power  is  there,  that  can  "  bring  a  sinner  thus  out  of  dark- 
ness unto  God's  marvellous  light?" 

Finally,  let  the  pious  reader  of  these  pages,  should  he 
ever  be  placed  in  similar  circumstances,  follow  the  judi- 
cious example  of  the  writer,  in  carefully  avoiding  disputa- 
tion. Infinitely  more  is  to  be  expected  from  uniform 
kindness,  and  the  clear  and  steady  light  of  Christian  ex- 
ample. "  Dr.  Bateman,"  says  his  enlightened  biographer, 
"  was  habitually  fond  of  argument,  and  skilled  in  it ;  and 
I  knew  that  I  was  quite  incompetent  to  argue  with  him. 
I  considered  too,  that  the  habit  of  disputing  in  favor  of 
any  opinion,  only  serves,  in  general,  to  rivet  it  more  firm- 
ly in  the  mind ;  as  men  commonly  find  their  own  argu- 
ments more  conclusive  than  those  of  their  adversaries." 
This  train  of  remark  is  founded  upon  a  deep  knowledge 
of  human  nature;  and  I  have  not  a  single  doubt,  that 
many  have  reasoned  themselves  into  incurable  and  fatal 
unbelief,  who  might  have  been  drawn  away  by  the  cords 
of  love,  from  the  paths  in  which  their  feet  were  beginning 
to  slide, 


CHAPTER    X, 

RICHARD    BAXTER. 

Richard  Baxter  was  born  at  Rowton,  Shropshire,  NoV. 
12th,  1615.  His  father  having  been  converted  himself, 
chiefly  through  the  instrumentality  of  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures, early  and  anxiously  directed  the  attention  of  this 
his  only  son,  to  the  same  source  of  divine  illumination. 
Nor  were  his  instructions  and  efforts  altogether  in  vain. 
Young  Richard  possessed  an  uncommonly  inquisitive 
mind,  and  the  Bible  soon  awakened  the  rebukes  of  his 
conscience^ 

•'  At  first,"  says  he,  in  the  history  of  his  own  life  and 
times,  "  my  father  set  me  to  read  the  historical  parts  of  the 
Scripture,  which,  suiting  with  my  nature,  greatly  de- 
lighted me;  and  though  all  that  time  I  neither  understood 
nor  relished  much,  the  doctrinal  part,  and  mj^stery  of  re- 
deniption,  yet  it  did  me  good,  by  acquainting  me  with  the 
matters  of  fact,  and  drawing  me  on  to  love  the  Bible,  and 
to  search  by  degrees  into  the  rest. 

But  though  my  conscience  would  trouble  me  when  I 
sinned,  yet  divers  sins  I  was  addicted  to,  and  often  com- 
mitted against  my  conscience  ;  which,  for  the  warning  of 
others,  I  will  here  confess. 


266  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

i.  I  was  much  addicted,  when  I  feared  correction,  to 
iie,  that  I  might  escape. 

2.  I  was  much  addicted  to  the  excessive  gluttonous 
eating  of  apples  and  pears,  which,  I  think,  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  that  weakness  of  my  stomach,  which  caused  tiie 
bodilj'-  calamities  of  my  life. 

3.  To  this  end,  and  to  concur  with  naughty  boys  that 
gloried  in  evil,  I  have  often  gone  into  other  men's  or- 
chards, and  stolen  their  fruit,  when  I  had  enough  at 
home. 

4.  I  was  somewhat  excessively  addicted  to  play,  and 
that  with  covetousness,  for  money. 

5.  I  was  extremely  bewitched  with  a  love  of  roman- 
ces, fables,  and  old  tales,  which  corrupted  my  affections, 
and  lost  my  time. 

6.  I  was  guilty  of  much  idle  foolish  chat,  and  imita- 
tion of  boys  in  scurrillous  foolish  words  and  actions,  though 
I  durst  not  swear. 

7.  I  was  too  proud  of  my  masters'  com.mendations  for 
learning,  who  all  of  them  fed  my  pride,  making  me 
seven  or  eight  years  the  highest  in  the  school,  and  boast- 
ing of  me  to  others  ;  which,  though  it  furthered  my  learn- 
ing, yet  helped  not  my  humility. 

8.  I  was  too  bold  and  irreverent  towards  my  parents. 

Those  were  my  sins,  for  which,  in  my  childhood,  con- 
science troubled  me  for  a  great  while  before  they  were 
overcome." 

His  convictions  gathered  strength,  although  occasion- 
ly  resisted.  The  temptations  to  neglect  religion  were 
strong  and  powerful.  The  reproach  cast  on  his  father, 
and  others,  who,  for  their  desire  and  pursuit  of  holiness, 
were  contemptuously  designated  "  Puritans,"  proved  for 
a  season,  a  stumbling  block  in  his  path  ?     Still,  however, 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  267 

the  reflecting  mind  of  the  son,  led  him  to  discern  the  dif- 
ference between  the  conduct  of  his  father,  and  that  of  his 
cahimniators,  and  to  conclude  that  there  was  more  of 
reason  and  truth  in  a  life  of  holiness,  than  in  a  life  of  im- 
piety and  rebellion  against  the  Majesty  of  heaven.  He 
says  :  — 

"  In  the  village  where  I  lived,  the  reader  read  the  com- 
mon prayer  briefly ;  and  ihe  rest  of  the  day,  even  till 
dark  night  almost,  except  eating  time,  was  spent  in  danc- 
ing under  a  may-pole  and  a  great  tree,  not  far  from  my 
father's  door,  where  all  the  town  did  meet  together;  and 
though  one  of  my  father's  own  tenant's  was  the  piper,  he 
could  not  restrain  him,  nor  break  the  sport;  so  that  we 
could  not  read  the  Scripture  in  our  family,  without  the 
great  disturbance  of  the  tabor  and  pipe,  and  noise  in  the 
street !  Many  times  my  mind  was  inclined  to  be  among 
them,  and  sometimes  1  broke  loose  from  conscience  and 
joined  with  them ;  and  the  more  I  did  it,  the  more  I  was 
inclined  to  it.  But  when  I  heard  them  call  my  father 
'  Puritan,'  it  did  much  to  cure  me  and  alienate  me  from 
them;  for  I  considered  that  my  father's  exercise  of  read- 
ing the  Scripture  was  better  than  theirs,  and  would  .sure- 
ly be  better  thought  of  by  all  men  at  the  last ;  and  I  con- 
sidered what  it  was  for  that  he  and  others  were  thus 
derided.  When  I  heard  them  speak  scornfully  of  others, 
as  Puritans,  whom  I  never  knew,  I  was  apt  at  first  to  be- 
lieve all  the  lies  and  slanders  wherewith  they  loaded 
them ;  but,  when  1  heard  my  own  father  so  reproached, 
and  perceived  that  drunkards  were  the  forwardcst  in  the 
reproach,  I  perceived  that  it  was  mere  malice.  For  mv 
father  never  scrupled  common  prayer,  or  ceremonies,  nor 
spoke  against  bishops,  nor  even  so  much  as  praj'ed  but  by 
a  book  or  form,  being  not  even  acquainted  then  with  any 


268  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

that  did  otherwise.  But  only  for  reading  Scripture  when 
the  rest  were  dancing  on  the  Lord's  day,  and  for  praying, 
by  a  form  out  of  the  end  of  the  commom  prayer  book,  in 
his  house,  and  for  reproving  drunkards  and  swearers,  and 
for  talking  sometimes  a  few  words  of  Scripture,  and  about 
the  Ufe  to  come,  he  was  reviled  commonly  by  the  name 
of  Puritan,  Precisian,  and  Hypocrite ;  and  so  were  the 
godly  conformable  ministers  that  lived  anywhere  in  the 
country  near  us,  not  only  by  our  neighbors,  but  by  the 
common  talk  of  the  vulgar  rabble  of  all  about  us.  By 
this  experience  I  was  fully  convinced  that  godly  people 
were  the  best,  and  those  that  despised  them,  and  lived  in 
sin  and  pleasure,  were  a  malignant  unhappy  sort  of  peo- 
ple;  and  this  kept  me  out  of  their  company,  except 
now  and  then,  when  the  love  of  sports  and  play  en- 
ticed me. 

Thus  does  God  often  bring  good  out  of  evil,  and  cause 
the  wrath  of  man  to  praise  him.  Strongly  prejudiced  as 
Baxter  was  at  this  time  against  the  Puritans,  there  is 
every  reason  to  think  that  his  dislike  would  have  ripened 
into  a  settled  and  incurable  hostility,  not  only  to  the  "  sect 
which  was  then  everywhere  spoken  against,"  but  to  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  had  not  his  own  father,  of  whose 
sincerity  and  piety  he  could  have  no  doubt,  been  so  wan- 
tonly reviled.  Little  did  the  enemies  of  truth  and  righte- 
ousness know  what  they  were  doing  to  promote  the  cause 
which  was  the  standing  theme  of  their  obloquy.  Little 
did  they  suspect,  what  a  champion  of  Puritanism  they 
were  nursing  in  the  cradle  of  persecution.  And  little, 
probably,  did  the  pious  father  of  young  Richard  expect, 
that  the  storm  which  beat  upon  his  own  head,  would  in- 
duce his  beloved  son  to  examine  and  embrace  the  very 
system  of  faith  and  practice  which  occasioned  it. 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  269 

Mr.  Baxter  thus  proceeds :  — 

•'  When  alDout  fifteen  years  of  age,  it  pleased  God  of 
his  wonderful  mercy,  to  open  my  ej^es  with  a  clearer  in- 
sight into  the  concerns  and  case  of  my  own  soul,  and  to 
touch  my  heart  with  a  livelier  feeling  of  things  spiritual 
than  ever  [  had  found  before."  While  under  this  con- 
cern, a  poor  man  in  the  town  lent  his  father  an  old  torn 
book,  entitled,  "Bunyan's  Resolutions."  "In  reading 
this  book,"  he  observes,  "  it  pleased  God  to  awaken  my 
soul,  and  show  me  the  folly  of  sinning,  and  the  misery  of 
the  wicked,  and  the  inexpressible  weight  of  things  eter- 
nal and  the  necessity  of  resolving  on  a  holy  life,  more 
than  I  was  ever  acquainted  with  before.  The  same 
things  which  I  knew  before,  came  now  in  another  man- 
ner, with  light,  and  sense,  and  seriousness  to  my  heart. 

Yet  whether  sincere  conversion  began  now,  or  before, 
or  after,  I  was  never  able  to  this  day  to  know  ;  for  I  had 
before  had  some  love  to  the  things  and  people  which  were 
good,  and  a  restraint  from  other  sins,  except  those  before- 
mentioned,  and  so  much  from  these  that  1  seldom  com- 
mitted most  of  them,  and  when  I  did,  it  was  with  great 
reluctance.  And,  both  now  and  formerly,  I  knew  that 
Christ  was  the  only  Mediator,  by  whom  we  must  have 
pardon,  justification,  and  life:  but  even  at  that  time,  I 
had  little  lively  sense  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ  to  the 
world  or  me,  nor  of  my  special  need  of  him. 

About  this  time  it  pleased  God  that  a  poor  pedlar  came 
to  the  door  that  had  ballads  and  some  good  books,  and 
my  father  bought  of  him  Dr.  Sibb's  '  Bruised  Reed.'  This 
also  1  read,  and  found  it  suited  to  my  taste,  and  seasona- 
bly sent  me;  which  opened  more  the  love  of  God  to  me, 
and  gave  me  a  livel  er  apprehension  of  the  mj'stery  of  re- 
demption, and  how  much  I  was  beholden  to  Jesus  Christ. 
24 


270  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

After  this,  we  had  a  servant  that  had  a  little  piece  of 
Mr.  Perkins'  works,  '  Of  Repentance,'  and  the  right  '  Art 
of  Hving  and  dying  well,'  and  the  '  Government  of  the 
Tongue  ;'  and  the  reading  of  that  did  further  inform  me, 
and  confirm  me.  And  thus,  without  any  means  but 
books,  was  God  pleased  to  resolve  me  for  himself." 

Various  are  the  means  by  which  God  awakens  the 
soul  to  a  sense  of  its  danger,  and  leads  it  to   the  knowl- 
edge  and   enjoyment   of  himself.     The  pulpit  and  the 
school,  conversation  and  reading,  correspondence  and  ad- 
vices, have  been  employed  as  instruments  in  the  hands  of 
the  Eternal  Spirit  in  effecting   the  conversion  of  souls. 
To  preaching,  as  the  express  appointment  of  God,  must 
be  ascribed  the  highest  place  ;  but  inferior  only  to  it  is  the 
instrumentahty  of  reading  religious  books  especially.     In 
places  where  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  is  unknown  or 
unattended,  the  distribution  of  religious  books  is  of  the  ut- 
most importance.     To  such  books  Baxter  was  greatly  in- 
debted for  his  conversion  :  and  having  derived  so  much  ben- 
efit from  this  means,  he  ever  after  employed  it  extensively 
among  his  friends,  his  flock,  and  all  to  whom  his  influence 
would  reach.     The  facilities  afforded,  in  the  present  day, 
for  the  dissemination  of  religious  knowledge  are  truly  as- 
tonishing ;  and  among  others,  the  efforts  of  Religious  Tract 
Societies  with  their  millions  of  publications,  should   not 
be  overlooked.     Many  will   arise  in  the  last  day,   and  ac- 
knowledge that  their  conversion  was  effected  by  means  of 
these  publications.     Nor  is  it  the  least  advantage  of  th's 
and  similar  institutions,   that   they  afford   an  opportunity 
to  persons  in  the  humblest  circumstances  to  be  instrumen- 
tal in  doing  good  to  their  fellow   creatures.     They  can 
give  a  tract,  though  they  cannot  deliver  a  discourse;  they 
can  send  a  tract,  where  they  cannot  visit  in  person  ;  they 


RICHARD    BAXTER,      v  S71 

can  circulate  books  where  ihey  cannot  engage  in  reli- 
gious conversation.  In  the  formation  of  Baxter's  early 
religious  opinions  and  character,  we  see  the  instrumental- 
ity of  a  laborer,  a  pedlar,  and  a  servant  employed.  The 
sovereignty  of  God  is  clearly  seen  in  the  agents  and 
means  of  salvation.  "  His  wisdom  is  unsearchable,  and 
his  ways  are  past  finding  out."  "  To  God  only  wise  be 
all  the  glory." 

Baxter's  early  education  was  greatly  neglected.  His 
professed  teachers  were  either  incompetent  to  their  task, 
or  suffered  him  to  be  occupied  rather  as  he  chose,  than 
according  to  any  regular  rule.  Notwithstanding  this 
neglect  and  irregularity,  he  made  considerable  progress. 
He  rose  superior  to  every  difficulty,  and  indue  time  be- 
came qualified  to  enter  the  university.  He  was  persuaded, 
however,  not  to  enter  college,  but  to  pursue  his  studies 
under  the  direction  of  Mr.  VVickshead,  chaplain  to  the 
council  at  Ludlow  Castle.  Being  his  onl}^  pupil,  it  was 
expected  that,  through  the  undivided  attention  of  his  tu- 
tor, his  proficiency  would  be  greater  than  either  at  Cam- 
bridge or  Oxford.  The  preceptor  became  much  attached 
to  the  pupil ;  but  being  in  earnest  quest  of  place  and  pre- 
ferment, he  neglected  his  charge.  He  allowed  him 
"  books  and  time  enough,"  but  never  seriously  attempted 
to  instruct  and  improve  his  mind.  Nor  was  this  the 
only  disadvantage  attending  his  residence  at  Ludlow; 
for  he  was  thrown  into  gay  and  fashionable  society,  and 
w^as  exposed  to  the  various  temptations  incident  to  such  a 
situation.  His  religious  principles  were  in  danger  of  be- 
ing corrupted  or  destroyed  by  the  practice  of  gambling, 
but  he  was  enabled,  by  the  gr?Ke  of  God,  to  escape  the 
snare,  and  to  resist  all  subsequent  attempts  to  lead  him 
astray. 


272  .,      RICHARD    BAXTER. 

In  this  situation  he  formed  an  intimacy  with  a  young 
man  of  professed  seriousness  and  piety,  but  who,  at  length, 
by  the  seductive  influence  of  Uquor,  became  an  apostate. 
At  this  period,  however,  he  instructed  young  Baxter  "in 
the  way  of  God  more  perfectly;"  pra^^ed  with  him,  ex- 
horted and  encouraged  him  in  his  religious  course,  and 
thus  became  of  essential  service  to  his  j^oung  friend.  Bax- 
ter remained  with  his  tutor  about  a  year  and  a  half,  and 
then  returned  home.  At  the  request  of  Lord  Newport,  he 
took  the  charge  at  the  grammar  school  at  Wroxeter  for  a 
short  time,  as  the  master  was  in  a  dying  state.  On  his 
death,  Baxter  left  his  charge,  and  pursued  his  studies  and 
religious  inquiries  under  the  direction  of  that  venerable 
saint,  Mr.  Garbett,  a  minister  of  Wroxeter. 

The  health  of  Baxter  was  in  a  precarious  state,  and 
in  ♦ihe  prospect  of  eternity,  he  became  more  solicitous  to 
improve  his  remaining  days  in  the  worship,  and  ways  and 
service  of  God.     He  says : 

"  Being  in  expectation  of  death,  by  a  violent  cough, 
with  spitting  of  blood,  &c.  of  two  years'  continuance,  sup- 
posed to  be  a  deep  degree  of  consumption,  I  was  yet  more 
awakened  to  be  serious,  and  solicitous  about  my  soul's 
everlasting  state ;  and  I  came  so  short  of  that  sense 
and  seriousness,  which  a  matter  of  such  infinite  weight 
required,  that  I  was  many  years  in  doubt  of  my  sincerity, 
and  thought  1  had  no  spiritual  life  at  all.  I  wondered 
at  the  senseless  hardness  of  my  heart,  that  I  could  think 
and  talk  of  sin  and  hell,  and  Christ,  and  grace,  of  God 
and  heaven,  with  no  more  feeling.  I  cried  out  from  day 
to  day  for  grace  against  this  senseless  deadness.  I  called 
myself  the  most  hard-hearted  sinner,  that  could  feel  noth- 
ing of  all  that  I  knew  and  talked  of.  I  was  not  then 
sensible  of  the  incomparable  excellence  of  holy  love,  and 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  273 

delight  in  God,  nor  much  employed  in  thanksgiving  and 
praise;  but  all  my  groans  were  for  more  contrition,  and 
a  broken  heart,  and  I  prayed  most  for  tears  and  tender- 
ness. 

And  thus  I  complained  for  many  years  to  God  and 
man;  and  between  the  expectations  of  death,  and  the 
doubts  of  my  own  sincerity  in  grace,  I  was  kept  in  some 
more  care  of  my  salvation,  than  my  nature,  too  stupid  and 
too  far  from  melancholy,  was  easily  brought  to. 

Thus  was  I  long  kept  with  the  calls  of  approaching 
death  at  one  ear,  and  the  questionings  of  a  doubtful  con- 
science at  the  other ;  and  since  then  I  have  found  that 
this  method  of  God's  was  very  wise,  and  no  other  was  so 
likelj'-  to  have  tended  to  my  good.  These  benefits  of  it  I 
sensibly  perceived. 

1.  It  made  me  vile  and  loathsome  to  myself,  and  made 
pride  one  of  the  most  hateful  sins  in  the  world  to  me. 
I  thought  of  myself  as  I  now  think  of  a  detestable  sinner, 
and  my  enemy  ;  that  is,  with  a  love  of  benevolence,  wish- 
ing them  well,  but  with  little  love  of  complacency  at  all  • 
and  the  long  continuance  of  it  tended  the  more  effectually 
to  a  habit. 

2.  It  much  restrained  me  f  om  that  sportful  levity  and 
vanity  which  my  nature  and  3^outhfulness  did  much  in- 
cline me  to,  and  caused  nne  to  meet  temptations  to  sensu- 
ality with  the  greatest  fear,  and  made  them  less  effectual 
against  me. 

3.  It  made  the  doctrine  of  redemption  the  more  savory 
to  me,  and  my  thoughts  of  Christ  to  be  more  serious  and 
regardful,  than  before  they  were.  I  remember,  in  the  be- 
ginning, how  savory  to  my  reading,  was  Mr.  Perkins' 
short  treatise  of  the  '  Right  Knowledge  of  Christ  crucifi- 


^24 


274  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

ed,'  and  his  '  Exposition  of  the  Creed,'  because  ihey  taught 
me  how  to  live  by  faith. 

4.  It  made  the  world  seem  to  me  as  a  carcass  that  had 
neither  life  nor  loveliness,  and  it  destroyed  that  ambitious 
desire  after  literary  fame,  which  was  the  sin  of  my  child- 
hood, I  had  a  desire  before  to  have  attained  the  highest 
academical  degrees  and  reputation  of  learning,  and  to 
have  chosen  out  my  studies  accordingly,  but  sickness,  and 
solicitousness  for  my  doubting  soul,  did  shame  away  all 
these  thoughts  as  follies  and  children's  plays." 

Pious  young  men  of  Baxter's  temperament,  are  liable, 
in  prosecuting  their  studies,  to  cherish  the  same  inordi- 
nate desire  for  academic  honors  and  distinctions.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  this  is  often  exceedingly  detrimental 
to  growth  in  grace  in  our  literary  institutions.  It  is  a  sin 
which  easily  besets  the  most  gifted  and  promising  sons  of 
the  church,  and  against  v/hich  they  cannot  be  too  ear- 
nestly exhorted  to  watch  and  pray.  But  this  is  not  the 
only  danger.  We  have  known  religious  young  men  pass 
from  the  extreme  just  mentioned,  into  the  opposite.  Be- 
cause literary  ambition  is  seen  to  be  sinful  and  felt  to  he 
deadening  to  piety,  they  have  drawn  the  unreasonable 
conclusion,  that  distinguished  scholarship  is  incompatible 
with  high  religious  attainments.  Under  this  erroneous 
impression,  we  have  known  persons  of  good  talents  de- 
claim against  classical  studies  to  their  own  irreparable 
injury,  and  the  serious  detriment  of  others,  over  whom 
they  have  gained  an  influence.  Is  is  absurd  to  suppose 
that  learning  is  necessarily  hostile  to  piety.  Both  may 
exist  together  in  a  high  degree.  Naj^  the  growth  of  one 
may  directly  aid  and  quicken  the  growth  of  the  other,  as 
it  would  be  eas}^  to  prove,  were  this  the  proper  place  for 
such  a  discussion. 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  275 

"5.  It  set  me  upon  that  method  of  my  studies,  which, 
shice  then,  I  have  found  the  benefit  of,  though  at  the 
time  I  was  not  satisfied  with  myself.  It  caused  me  first 
to  seek  God's  kingdom  and  his  righteousness,  and  most 
to  mind  the  one  thing  needful;  and  to  determine  first  of 
my  ultimate  end,  by  which  I  was  engaged  to  choose  out 
and  prosecute  all  other  studies  but  as  meant  to  that  end. 
Therefore,  divinity  w^as  not  only  carried  on,  with  the  rest 
of  my  studies,  with  an  equal  hand,  but  always  had  the 
first  and  chief  place.  And  it  caused  me  to  study  prac- 
tical divinity  first,  in  the  most  practical  books,  in  a  prac- 
tical order;  doing  all  purposely  for  the  informing  and  re- 
forming of  my  own  soul. 

And  as  for  those  doubts  of  my  own  salvation,  which 
exercised  me  many  years,  the  chief  causes  of  them  were 
these :  — 

1.  Because  I  could  not  distinctly  trace  the  workings  of 
the  Spirit  upon  my  heart,  in  that  method  by  which  Mr. 
Bolton,  Mr.  Hooker,  Mr.  Rogers,  and  other  divines  de- 
scribe ;  nor  knew  the  time  of  conversion,  being  wrought 
on  by  the  forementioned  degrees.  But,  since  then,  I  un- 
derstood that  the  soul  is  in  too  dark  and  passionate  a 
plight  at  first,  to  be  able  to  keep^an  exact  account  of  the 
order  of  its  own  operations;  and  that  preparatory  grace, 
being  sometimes  longer,  and  sometimes  shorter,  and  the 
first  degrees  of  special  grace  being  usually  very  small,  it 
is  not  possible  that  one  of  very  many  should  be  able  to 
give  any  true  account  of  the  just  time  when  special 
grace  began,  and  advanced  him  above  the  state  of  prepa^ 
ration." 

Wc  are  far  from  thinking,  that  every  Christian  can 
tell  the  very  hour  or  day,  when  he  '  passed  fiom  death  to 


276  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

life.'  Perhaps  the  majority  cannot.  We  are  persuaded, 
however,  that  such  cases  are  by  no  means  so  rare  as  Mr. 
Baxter  seems  to  have  supposed.  Certainly  they  were 
greatly  multiplied  in  the  first  age  of  the  Christian  church. 
Judging  from  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  it  would  seem  as 
if  the  greater  part  of  the  early  converts  must  have  known 
the  very  time  when  they  were  '  brought  out  of  darkness 
into  God's  marvellous  light; '  and  sure  we  are,  that  in  the 
glorious  revivals  of  which  our  country  has  been  made  the 
theatre,  during  the  last  five  and  twenty  years,  great 
multitudes  have  stated  without  hesitation,  that  if  they 
were  ever  regenerated,  the  change  must  have  taken  place 
at  or  very  near  the  times  which  they  could  specify. 
Much  will  depend  upon  the  kind  of  instruction  which 
persons  receive  from  their  religious  teachers,  in  answer  to 
the  all-important  inquiry,  '  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved?' 
If  the  preaching  and  conversation  are  direct  and  searching 
and  scriptural  —  if  the  plague  of  their  own  hearts  is 
clearly  laid  open  to  then'  view  —  if  the  truth  is  made  to 
blaze  upon  their  awakened  consciences,  as  it  ought  to  be, 
there  will  not  only  be  many  more  real  converts,  than  un- 
der any  other  kind  of  religious  instruction,  but  a  much 
larger  proportion  of  them  will  be  able  to  fix  upon  the  day, 
or  week  of  their  conversion. 

"  2.  My  second  doubt  was  as  aforesaid,  because  of  the 
hardness  of  my  heart,  or  want  of  such  lively  apprehension 
of  things  spiritual,  which  I  had  about  things  corporeal. 
And  though  I  still  groan  under  this,  as  my  sin  and  want, 
3^et  I  now  perceive  that  a  soul  in  flesh  doth  work  so 
much  after  the  manner  of  the  flesh,  that  it  much  desireth 
sensible  apprehensions ;  but  things  spiritual  and  distant 
are  not  so  apt  to  work  upon  them,  and  to  stir  the  passions, 
as  things  present  and  sensible  are. 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  277 

8.  My  next  doubt  was,  lest  education  and  fear  had 
done  all  that  ever  was  done  upon  my  soul,  and  regenera- 
tion and  love  were  yet  to  seek;  because  I  had  found 
convictions  from  my  childhood,  and  found  more  fear  than 
love  in  all  my  duties  and  restraints. 

But  I  afterwards  perceived  that  education  is  God's  or- 
dinary way  for  the  conveyance  of  his  grace,  and  ought 
no  more  to  be  set  in  opposition  to  the  Spirit,  than  the 
preaching  of  the  word  ;  and  that  it  was  the  great  mercy 
of  God  to  begin  with  me  so  soon,  and  to  prevent  such  sins 
as  else  ujight  have  been  my  shame  and  sorrow  while  I 
lived ;  and  that  repentance  is  good,  but  prevention  and 
innocence  better;  which  though  we  cannot  attain  in 
perfection,  yet  the  more  the  better.  And  1  understood, 
that,  though  fear  without  love  be  not  a  state  of  sa.ving 
grace,  and  greater  love  to  the  world  than  to  God  be  not 
consistent  with  sincerity,  yet  a  little  predominant  love, 
prevailing  against  worldly  love,  conjoined  with  a  far 
greater  measure  of  fear,  may  be  a  state  of  special  grace. 
And  1  found  that  my  hearty  love  of  the  word  of  God,  and 
of  the  servants  of  God,  and  my  desires  to  be  more  holy, 
and  especially  the  hatred  of  my  heart  for  loving  God  no 
more,  and  my  wish  to  love  him,  and  be  pleasing  to  him, 
was  not  without  some  love  to  himself,  though  it  worked 
more  sensibly  on  his  nearer  image. 

4,  Another  of  my  doubts  was,  because  my  grief  and 
humiliation  were  no  greater,  and  because  1  could  weep  no 
more  for  this. 

But  I  understood,  at  last,  that  God  breaketh  not  all 
men's  hearts  alike,  and  that  the  gradual  proceedings  of 
his  grace  might  be  one  cause,  and  my  nature,  not  apt  to 
weep  for  other  things,  another.  And,  that  the  change  of 
our  heart  from  sin  to  God,  is  true  repentance;  and  a 


278  RICHARb    BAXTER. 

loathing  of  ourselves,  is  true  humiliation ;  and  that  he 
that  had  rather  leave  his  sin,  than  have  leave  to  keep  it, 
and  had  rather  be  the  most  holy,  than  have  leave  to  be 
unholy  or  less  holy,  is  neither  without  true  repentance  nor 
the  love  of  God. 

5.  Another  of  my  doubts  was,  because  I.  had,  after  my 
change,  committed  some  sins  deliberately  and  knowingly. 
And,  be  they  ever  so  small,  1  thought,  he  that  could  sin 
upon  knowledge  and  deliberation  had  no  true  grace ;  and 
that,  if  I  had  but  had  as  strong  temptations  to  forni- 
cation, drunkenness,  fraud,  or  other  more  heinous  sins,  I 
might  also  have  committed  them  !  And  if  these  proved 
that  1  had  then  no  saving  grace,  after  all  that  I  had  felt, 
I  thought  it  unlikely  that  ever  I  should  have  any. 

The  means  by  which  God  was  pleased  to  give  me  some 
peace  and  comfort  were  — 

1.  The  reading  of  many  consolatory  books. 

2.  The  observation  of  other  men's  condition.  When  I 
heard  many  make  the  very  same  complaints  that  I  did, 
who  were  people  of  whom  I  had  the  best  esteem,  for  the 
uprightness  and  holiness  of  their  lives,  it  much  abated  my 
fears  and  troubles.  And,  in  particular,  it  much  comforted 
me  to  read  him  whom  I  loved,  as  one  of  the  holiest  of  all 
the  martyrs,  John  Bradford,  subscribing  himself  so  often, 
'  The  hard-hearted  sinner,'  and  '  The  miserable  hard- 
hearted sinner,'  even  as  I  was  used  to  do  myself. 

3.  And  it  much  increased  my  peace,  when  God's 
providence  called  me  to  the  comforting  of  many  others 
that  had  the  same  complaints.  While  I  answered  their 
doubts,  I  answered  my  own ;  and  the  charity  which  I 
was  constrained  to  exercise  for  them,  redounded  to  myself, 
and  insensibly  abated  my  fears,  and  procured  me  an  in- 
crease of  quietness  of  mind. 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  279 

And  yet  after  all,  I  was  glad  of  probabilities  instead  of 
full  undoubted  certainties ;  and  to  this  very  day,  though 
I  have  no  such  degree  of  doubtfulness  as  is  any  great 
trouble  to  my  soul,  or  proclaimeth  any  great  disquieting 
fears,  yet  cannot  I  say  that  I  have  such  a  sincerity  in 
grace,  as  excluded  all  doubts  and  fears  of  the  contrary." 
It  would  be  extremely  interesting,  did  the  leading  de- 
sign of  this  little  volume  permit,  to  follow  this  devoted 
servant  of  Christ  through  all  the  changes  of  his  long  and 
eventful  life ;  to  see  how  he  filled  the  humble  sphere, 
which  as  a  minister,  he  first  occupied  at  Dudley,  —  to 
follow  him  from  Dudley  to  Bridgenorth,  —  from  Bridge- 
north  to  Kidderminster,  and  thence  to  the  Parliamentary 
army,  and  then  back  to  Kidderminster; — to  see  him 
now  prcLiching  before  the  Lord  Protector,  and  anon  ar- 
raigned as  a  culprit  before  the  execrated  Jeffries,  —  to  fol- 
low him  to  prison  —  to  commune  with  him  in  his  bonds, 
to  rejoice  with  the  church  in  his  enlargement,  —  toad- 
mire  the  astonishing  energies  of  his  mind,  under  the  ex- 
cruciating pains  of  sickness,  and  the  infirmities  of  old  age, 
and  to  witness  his  triumphant  departure,  for  the  Sainfs 
Everlasting  Rest.  And  narrow  as  our  limits  are,  I  am 
sure  the  pious  reader  would  be  greatly  disappointed,  not 
to  find  in  these  pages,  a  brief  outline,  at  least,  of  his  Chris- 
tian and  m.inisterial  character. 

The  following  extracts  from  his  life  and  times,  will 
show  how  he  discharged  the  duties  of  the  sacred  office, 
and  how  abundant  were  the  fruits  of  his  labors. 

"  I  preached,  before  the  wars,  twice  each  Lord's  day; 
but,  after  the  war,  but  once,  and  once  every  Thursday, 
besides  occasional  sermons.  Every  Thursday  evenmg, 
my  neighbors  that  were  most  desirous  and  had  opportu- 
nity, met  at  my  house,  and  there  one  of  them  repeat- 


280  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

ed  the  sermon,  and  afterwards  ihey  proposed  what  doubts 
any  of  them  had  about  the  sermon,  or  any  other  case  of 
conscience,  and  I  resolved  their  doubts.     And,  hist  of  all, 
I  caused  sometimes  one,  and  sometimes  another  of  them  to 
pray,  to  exercise  them ;  and  sometimes  I  prayed  with  them 
myself,  which,  besides  singing  a  psalm,  was  all  they  did. 
And  once  a  week,   also,  some  of  the  younger  sort,  who 
were  not  fit  to  pray  in  so  great  an   assembly,  met  among 
a  few   more  privately,   where   they  spent  three  hours  in 
prayer  together.      Every   Saturday   night   they   met   at 
some  of  their  houses,   to  repeat  the  serm.on  of  the  last 
Lord's  day,  and  to  pray  and  prepare  themselves  for  the 
following  day.     Once  in  a  few  weeks,   we  had  a  day  of 
humiHation,  on  one  occasion  or  other.     Every  religious 
woman  that  was  safely  delivered,  instead  of  the  old  feast- 
ings  and  gossipings,  if  they  were  able,  did   keep  a  day  of 
thanksgiving,  with  some  of  their  neighbors  with  them, 
praising  God,  and  singing  psalms,   and   soberly  feasting 
together.     Two  days  every  week,  my  assistant  and  I  my- 
self, took  fourteen   families  between    us,  for  private  cate- 
chizing and  conference:  he  going  through  the  parish,  and 
the  town  coming  to  me.     I  first  heard  them  recite  the 
words  of  the  catechism,  and  then  examined   them  about 
the  sense,  and  lastly  urged  them,  with  all  possible  enga- 
ging reason  and  vehemence,  to   answerable  affection  and 
practice.  If  any  of  them  were  perplexed,  through  ignorance 
or  bashfulness,  1   forebore  to  press  them  any  farther  to 
answers,  but   made  them   hearers,   and   either  examined 
others,   or  turned    all   into    instruction    and    exhortation. 
But  this  I  have  opened  more  fully  in  my  '  Reformed  Pas- 
tor.'     I  spent  about  an  hour  with  a  family,  and  admitted 
no  others  to  be  present,  lest  bashfulness  should  make  it 
burdensome,  or  any  should  talk  of  the  weakness  of  others. 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  281 

So  that  all  the  afternoons,  on  Mondays  and  Tuesdays,  I 
spent  in  this,  after  I  had  begun  it ;  and  my  assistant  spent 
the  mornings  of  the  same  days  in  the  same  employment. 
Before  that,  I  only  cateohized  them  in  the  church,  and 
conferred  with,  one  occasionally." 

Sach  a  course  of  preaching  and  pastoral  labors  steadily 
pursued  in  humble  reliance  upon  the  Divine  Spirit,  can 
never  be  in  vain,  while  God  continues  to  own  and  bless 
the  means  of  his  own  appointment.  Verj^  few  laborers  in 
the  vineyard  of  Christ,  have  been  more  diligent  in  sowing 
the  good  seed,  than  Mr.  Baxter  was,  during  the  period  of 
which  he  speaks  in  the  preceding  extract,  and  how  rich 
and  precious  a  harvest  he  soon  gathered,  we  hear  from 
what  immediately  follows. 

"  I  have  mentioned  my  sweet  and  acceptable  employ- 
ment :  let  me,  to  the  praise  of  my  gracious  Lord,  acquaint 
you  with  some  of  my  success.  And  I  will  not  suppress  it, 
though  1  foreknow  that  the  ignorant  will  impute  the 
mention  of  it  to  pride  and  ostentation.  For  it  is  the  sac- 
rifice of  thanksgiving  which  I  owe  to  my  most  gracious 
God,  which  I  will  not  deny  for  fear  of  being  censured  as 
proud,  lest  I  prove  myself  proud  indeed,  while  I  cannot 
undergo  ihe  imputation  of  pride  in  the  performance  of  my 
thanks  for  such  undeserved  mercies. 

My  public  preaching  met  with  an  attentive,  diligent 
auditory.  Having  broke  over  the  bounds  of  the  opposi- 
tion of  the  rabble  before  the  wars,  I  found  them  afterwards 
tractable  and  unpr-^judiced. 

Before  I  ever  entered   into  the  ministry,  God  blessed 

my  private   conference   to  the  conversion   of  some,  who 

remain  firm  and  eminent  in   holiness  to  this  day.     Then, 

and  in  the  beginning  of  my  ministry,  I  was  wont  to  num- 

25 


282  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

ber  them  as  jewels;  but  since  then  I  could  not  keep  any 
number  of  them. 

The  congregation   was  usually  full,  so  that  we  were 
fain  to  build  ^ye  galleries   after  my   coming  thither,  the 
church  itself  being  very  capacious,  and  the  most  commo- 
dious and  convenient  that  ever   I  was  in.     Our  private 
meetings  were  also  full.     On  the   Lord's  dia.y  there  was 
no  disorder  to  be  seen  in  the  streets,  but  you  might  hear  a 
hundred  families  singing  psalms  and   repeating  sermons, 
as  you  passed  through  the  streets.     In   a  word,  when  1 
came  thither  first,  there  was  about  one  family  in  a  street 
that  worshipped  God  and  called  on  his  name ;   and  when 
I  came  away,  there  were  some  streets  where  there  was 
not  more  than  one  family  in  the  side  of  as  trect,  that  did  not 
so;  and  that  did  not,  by  professing  serious  godhness,  give 
us  hopes  of  their  sincerity   .And  those  families  which  v/ere 
the  worst,  being  inns  and  alehouses,  usually  some  per- 
sons in  each  house,  did   seem  to  be  religious.     Though 
our  administration  of  the  Lord's  supper,  was  so  ordered  as 
to  displease  many,  and  by  far  the  greater  part  kept  awa}^ 
themselves,  yet  we  had  six  hundred  that  were   communi- 
cants, of  whom  there  were  not  twelve  that  I  had  not  good 
hopes  of,  as  to  their  sincerity;  and   those  few  that  did 
consent  to  our  communion,  and  yet  lived    scandalouslj^ 
were  excommunicated  afterward.     And  I  hope  there  were 
many  that  had  the  fear  of  God,   that  came   not  to  our 
communion  in  the  sacrament,  some  of  them  being  kept 
off  by  husbands,  by  parents,  by  masters,  and  some  dis- 
suaded by  men  that  differed  from  us. 

When  I  set  upon  personal  conference  with  each  family, 
and  catechizing  them,  there  were  very  few  families  in  all 
the  town,  that  refused  to  come ;  and  those  few  were  beg- 
gars at  the  town's  end,  who  were  so  ignorant  that  they 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  283 

were  ashamed  it  should  be  manifest.  And  few  families 
went  from  me  without  some  tears,  or  seemingly  serious 
promises  for  a  godly  life.  Yet  many  ignorant  and  un- 
godly persons  there  were  still  among  us ;  but  most  of 
them  were  in  the  parish,  and  not  in  the  town,  and  in  those 
parts  of  the  parish  which  were  farthest  ftom  the  town. 
Some  poor  men  did  competently  understand  the  body  of 
divinity,  and  were  able  to  judge  in  difficult  controversies. 
Some  of  them  were  so  able  in  prayer,  that  very  few  minis- 
ters did  match  them,  in  order  and  fullness,  and  apt  ex- 
pression, and  holy  oratory,  with  fervency.  Abundance  of 
them  were  able  to  praj^  very  laudably  with  their  families 
or  with  others.  The  temper  of  their  minds,  and  the  cor- 
rectness of  their  lives,  were  much  more  laudable  than 
their  parts.  The  professors  of  serious  godliness  were 
generally  of  very  humble  minds  and  carriage;  of  meek 
and  quiet  behavior  unto  others;  and  of  blamelessness  in 
their  conversation. 

And,  in  my  poor  endeavors  with  my  brethren  in  the 
ministry,  my  labors  were  not  lost.  Our  discussions  proved 
not  unprofitable ;  our  meetings  were  never  contentious, 
but  always  comfortable.  We  took  great  delight  in  the 
company  of  each  other;  so  that  I  know  the  remem- 
brance of  those  days  is  pleasant,  both  to  them  and  me. 

When  discouragements  had  long  kept  me  from  motion- 
ing a  way  of  church  order  and  discipline,  which  all 
might  agree  in,  that  we  might  neither  have  churches  un- 
governed,  now  fall  into  divisions  among  themselves,  at 
the  first  motioning  of  it,  I  found  a  readier  consent  than  I 
could  expect,  and  all  went  on  without  any  great  obstruct- 
ing difficulties.  And  when  I  attempted  to  bring  them  all 
conjointly  to  the  work  of  catechizing  and  instructing 
every  family  by  itself,  I  found  a  ready  consent  in  most, 


284  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

and  performance  in  many.  So  that  I  must  here,  to  the 
praise  of  my  dear  Redeemer,  set  up  this  pillar  of  remem- 
brance, even  to  his  praise  who  hath  employed  me  so  many 
years  in  so  comfortable  a  work,  with  such  encouraging 
success !  Oh  !  what  am  1,  a  worthless  worm,  not  only 
wanting  academical  honors,  but  much  of  that  furniture 
which  is  needful  to  so  high  a  work,  that  God  should 
thus  abundantly  encourage  me,  when  the  reverend  in- 
structors of  my  youth  did  labor  fifty  years  together  in 
one  place,  and  could  scarcel}'-  say  they  had  converted  one 
or  two  of  their  parishioners?  And  the  greater  w^as  this 
mercy,  because  I  was  naturally  of  a  discouraged  spirit ; 
so  that  if  I  had  preached  one  year,  and  seen  no  fruits  of 
it,  I  should  hardly  have  foreborne  running  away  like  Jo- 
nah, but  should  have  thought  that  God  called  me  not  to 
that  place." 

Here  we  feel  bound  to  sa}^  what  we  fully  believe,  that 
the  whole  history  of  the  church  during  the  seventeenth 
century,  does  not  furnish  a  more  striking  example,  either 
of  ministerial  fidelity,  or  success,  than  is  exhibited  in  the 
preceding  record.  It  strongly  reminds  us  of  what  Ed- 
wards and  Bellamy,  and  the  servants  were  enabled  to  do, 
and  permitted  to  see,  in  America,  a  century  later;  and 
of  the  still  more  copious  effusions  of  the  Spirit  in  our  own 
times.  Baxter,  indeed,  does  not  say  in  so  many  words, 
that  there  was  ever  a  revival  at  Kidderminster.  But  if  we 
look  at  things,  rather  than  words,  how  can  we  doubt  that 
there  was  a  revival  there  of  great  power  and  long  contin- 
uance ? 

In  1676,  we  find  Mr.  Baxter  preaching,  for  a  short  time, 
in  the  parish  of  Saint  Martin,  London,  where  "  about 
60,000  persons  had  no  church  to  go  to,  nor  any  public 
worship  of  God  1 "     Being  driven  away  from  that  great 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  285 

and  famishing  population,  he  was  for  about  eleven  years 
subjected  to  sore  and  almost  continual  persecution,  from 
the  secret  abettors  of  popery,  and  the  open  and  ungodly 
partizans  of  a  misnamed  Protestant  conformity.  His 
goods  were  distrained;  his  books  were  carried  off;  his 
character  was  traduced  ;  his  person  was  seized;  he  was 
most  brutally  insulted  and  vilified  in  the  mockery  of  a  ju- 
dicial trial,  and  notwithstanding  age  and  many  infirmi- 
ties, was  thrown  into  prison.  All  his  efforts  to  do  good 
were  thwarted  with  demoniac  vigilance  and  hate,  and 
wherever  he  went,  "  bonds  and  imprisonments  await- 
ed him."  The  following  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  most  respectable  and  godly  ministers 
were  treated  by  the  highest  law  officer  of  Charles  II. 

"  On  the  28lh  Feb.  1685,  Baxter  was  committed  to  the 
King's  Bench  prison,  by  warrant  of  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Jeffries,  for  his  '  Paraphrase  on  the  New  Testament,' 
which  had  heen  printed  a  little  before;  ^iid  which  was 
described  as  a  scandalous  and  seditioi-^  book  against  the 
government.  On  his  cammitment  ^y  the  Chief  Justice's 
warrant,  he  applied  for  a  habeas  corpus,  and  having  ob- 
tained it,  he  absconded  into  the  country  to  avoid  impris- 
onment, till  the  terra  api-'foached.  He  was  induced  to  do 
this  from  the  consta^it  pain  he  endured,  and  an  apprehen- 
sion that  he  cou-'l(  not  bear  the  confinement  of  a  prison. 

On  the  6tJi  of  May,  which  was  the  first  day  of  the 
term,  he  appeared  in  Westminster  Hall,  and  an  informa- 
tion was  then  ordered  to  be  drawn  up  against  him.  On 
the  14th  of  May,  he  pleaded  not  guilty,  to  the  informa- 
tion. On  the  ISih  of  the  same  month,  being  much  indis- 
posed, it  was  moved  that  he  might  have  further  time  given 
him,  before  histrid,  but  this  was  denied  him.  He  moved 
for  it  by  his  counsel;  but  Jeffries  cried  out  in  a  passion, 


286  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

•  I  will  not  give  him  a  minute's  time  more,  to  save  his 
life.  We  have  had  to  do,'  said  he,  '  with  other  sorts  of 
persons,  but  now  we  have  a  saint  to  deal  with,  and  I 
know  how  to  deal  with  saints  as  well  as  sinners.  '  Yon- 
der,' said  he,  '  stands  Bates  in  the  pillory,'  (as  he  actually 
did  at  that  very  time  in  the  New  Palace  Yard,)  '  and  he 
says  he  suffers  for  the  truth,  and  so  says  Baxter;  but  if 
Baxter  did  but  stand  on  the  other  end  of  the  pillory  with 
him,  I  would  say,  two  of  the  greatest  rogues  and  rascals 
in  the  kingdom  stood  there.' 

'When  I  saw,'  says  an  eye-witness,  'the  meek  man 
stand  before  the  flaming  eyes  and  fierce  looks  of  this  bigot, 
I  thought  of  Paul  standing  before  Nero.  The  barbarous 
usage  wh  ch  he  received  drew  plenty  of  tears  from  my 
eyes,  as  well  as  from  others  of  the  auditors  and  spectators; 
yet  I  c^uld  not  but  smile  sometimes,  v.'hen  I  saw  my  lord 
imitate  oui  modern  pulpit  drollerj^  which  some  one  saith, 
any  one  engagf>cl  in  such  a  design  would  not  lose  for  the 
world.  He  drove  on  furiously,  like  Hannibal  over  the 
Alps,  with  fire  and  V^egar,  pouring  all  the  contempt  and 
scorn  upon  Baxter,  as  it  r.^  had  been  a  Hnk-boy  or  knave : 
which  made  the  people  who  ^ould  not  come  near  enough 
to  hear  the  indictment,  or  Mr.  Baxter's  plea,  cry  out, 
'  Snri4y  this  Baxter  had  burned  the  ^ity,  or  the  temple  of 
Delphos.'  But  others  said,  'it  was  noithe  custom,  now- 
a-days,  to  receive  ill,  except  for  doing  well ;  and  therefore 
this  must  needs  be  some  good  man,  that  my  loid  so  rails 
at.' 

'  I  beseech  your  lordship,'  said  Pollexfen,  one  of  Bax- 
ter's counsel,  '  suffer  me  a  word  for  my  client.  It  is  well 
known  to  all  intelligent  men,  that  he  wished  as  well  to 
the  king  and  royal  famil3%  as  Mr.  Love,  who  lost  his  head 
for  endeavoring  to  bring  in  the  son,  long  before  he  was 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  287 

restored.  And,  my  lord,  Mr.  Baxter's  loyal  and  peacea- 
ble spirit,  King  Charles  would  have  rewarded  with  a 
bishopric,  when  he  came  in,  if  he  would  have  conformed.' 

*Ay,  ay,'  said  the  Judge,  'we  know  that,  but  what 
ailed  the  old  blockhead,  the  unthankful  villain,  that  he 
would  not  conform  ?  He  hath  been  ever  since  the  spring 
of  the  faction.  I  am  sure  he  hath  poisoned  the  world 
with  his  linsej'-woolsy  doctrine.'  Here  his  rage  increased 
to  an  amazing  degree.  He  called  Baxter,  a  conceited, 
stubborn,  fanatical  dog.  '  Hang  him,'  said  he,  •  this  one 
old  fellow  hath  cast  more  reproach  upon  the  constitution 
and  discipline  of  our  church,  than  will  be  wiped  off  this 
hundred  years.' 

Mr.  Rotherham  urged,  that  if  Mr.  Baxter's  book  had 
sharp  reflections  upon  the  church  of  Ron«e,  by  name,  but 
spake  well  of  the  church  of  England,  it  was  tc  be  pre- 
sumed that  the  sharp  reflections  were  intended  only 
against  the  prelates  of  the  church  of  Rome.  Baxter  said, 
*  My  lord,  I  have  been  so  moderate  with  respect  to  the 
church  of  England,  that  I  have  incurred  the  censure  of 
many  of  the  Dissenters,  on  that  account.' 

'Baxter  for  Bishops!'  exclaimed  Jeffries,  'that  is  a 
merry  conceit  indeed.'  Upon  this,  Rotherham  turned  to 
a  place  where  it  is  said,  'that  great  respect  is  due  to  those 
truly  called  to  be  bishops  among  us;'  or  to  that  purpose. 

•  Ay,^  said  Jeffries,  '  this  is  your  Presbyterian  cant ; 
truly  called  to  be  bishops;  that  is  himself,  and  such  ras- 
cals, called  to  be  bishops  to  Kidderminster,  and  other  such 
places.  Bishops  set  apart  by  such  factions,  snivelling 
Presbyterians  as  himself:  a  Kidderminster  bishop,  he 
means.  According  to  a  saying  of  a  late  learned  author 
—  and  every  parish  shall  maintain  a  tithe  pig  metropol- 
itan.' 


288  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

Baxter  beginning  to  speak  again,  Jeffries  reviled  him, 
*  Richard,  Richard,  dost  thou  think  we'll  hear  thee  poison 
the  court.  Richard,  thou  art  an  old  fellow,  an  old  knave; 
thou  hast  written  books  enough  to  load  a  cart,  every  one 
as  full  of  sedition,  I  might  say  treason,  as  an  egg  is  full 
of  meat.  Hadst  thou  been  whipped  out  of  thy  writing 
trade  forty  jears  ago,  it  had  been  happy.  Thou  pretend- 
est  to  be  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  of  peace,  and  thou  hast 
one  foot  in  the  grave!  It  is  time  for  thee  to  begin  to 
think  what  account  thou  mtendest  to  give.  But  leave 
thee  to  thytelf,  ar.d  I  see  thou'lt  go  on  as  thou  hast  be- 
gun ;  but,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I'll  look  after  thee.  I 
know  thou  hast  a  mighty  party,  and  I  sec  a  great  mary 
of  the  brotherhood  in  corners,  waiting  to  see  what  will 
become  of  their  mighty  Don,  and  a  Doctor  of  the  party, 
(looking  to  Dr.  Bates,)  at  your  elbow,  but,  by  th  ■  grace 
of  Almighty  God,  I'll  crush  you  all.  Come,  wh'at  do  you 
say  for  yourself,  you  old  kn;ive;  come,  spenk  ip.  What 
doth  he  say  ?  1  am  not  afraid  of  you  for  all  the  sniveling 
calves  3'ou  have  got  about;'  alluding  to  some  persons 
who  were  in  tears  about  Mr.  Baxter.  'Your  lordship 
need  not,'  said  the  holy  man,  '  for  I'll  not  hurt  you.  But 
these  things  will  surely  be  understood  one  day;  what 
fools,  one  sort  of  Protestants  are  made,  to  persecute  an- 
other.' And  lifting  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  said,  '  I  am 
not  concerned  to  answer  such  s'uff;  but  am  readj'  to  pro- 
duce my  writings  for  the  confutation  of  all  th's;  and  my 
life  and  conversation  are  known  to  many  in  this  niition." 

Wnat,  an  outrage  upon  humanity  !  what  an  impious 
mockery  of  justice  1  what  an  indelible  blot  upon  tie  hie- 
rarchj'  of  the  seventeenth  century  !  But  th^  u:h  '  weep- 
ing mav  endure  for  a  night,  joy  comeih  in  the  morning,' 
The  venerable  Baxter,  the  chamoion  of  rclit^icus   tolera- 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  2^9 

tion,  for  more  than  half  a  century,  the  undaunted  con- 
fessor, the  meek  and  heroic  '  prisoner  of  the  Lord,'  was 
released  from  his  last  confinement  in  1685,  and  was  fast 
approaching  the  close  of  his  long  and  eventful  and  pre- 
eminently useful  life. 

But  before  we  come  to  the  closing  scene,  two  or  three 
extracts  from  his  sermons,  and  a  glimpse  at  the  yearnings 
of  his  heart  over  the  perishing  heathen  will  doubtless  be 
highly  acceptable  to  the  Christian  reader.  The  first  is 
from  a  discourse  delivered  in  London  on  "  making  light  of 
Christ."  Such  plainness  and  pungenc}''  would  be  highly 
offensive  to  multitudes  in  our  own  times,  who  profess  to 
believe  in  all  the  amazing  realities  of  heaven  and  hell,  as 
disclosed  in  the  Scriptures. 

•'  O  sirs,  it  is  no  trifles  or  jesting  matters  that  the  Bible 
speaks  of.  I  must  needs  profess  to  you,  that  when  I 
have  the  most  serious  thoughts  of  these  things  myself,  I 
am  ready  to  marvel  that  such  amazing  matters  do  not 
overwhelm  the  souls  of  men  :  that  the  greatness  of  the 
subject  doth  not  so  overmatch  our  understandings  and  af- 
fections, as  even  to  drive  men  beside  themselves,  but  that 
God  hath  always  somewhat  allayed  it  by  the  distance ; 
much  more  that  men  should  be  so  blockish  as  to'make 
light  of  them.  O  Lord,  that  men  did  but  know  what 
everlasting  and  everlasting  torments  are.  Would  they 
then  hear  us  as  they  do  ?  Would  ihey  read  and  think  of 
these  things  as  they  do  ?  I  profess  I  have  been  ready  to 
wonder  when  I  heard  such  mighty  things  delivered,  how 
people  can  forbear  crying  out  in  the  congregation ;  much 
more  how  they  can  rest  till  they  have  gone  to  their  min- 
isters, and  learned  what  ihey  should  do  to  be  saved,  that 
this  great  business  might  be  put  out  of  doubt.  Is  that 
a  man  or  a  corpse  that  is  not  affected  with  things  of  this 


290  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

moment?  that  can  be  readier  to  sleep,  than  to  tremble 
when  he  heareth  how  he  must  stand  at  the  bar  of  God  1 
Is  that  a  man,  or  a  clod  of  clay,  that  can.  rise  and  lie 
.down  without  being  deeply  affected  with  his  everlasting 
estate?  that  can  follow  his  worldly  business,  and  make 
nothing  of  the  great  business  of  salvation  or  damnation  ; 
and  that  when  he  knows  it  is  hard  at  hand  !  Truly,  sirs, 
when  I  thmk  of  the  weight  of  the  matter,  I  wonder  at 
the  very  best  of  God's  saints  upon  earth,  that  they  are  no 
better,  and  do  no  more  in  so  weighty  a  case.  I  wonder 
at  those  w^hom  the  world  accounteth  more  holy  than 
needs,  and  scorns  for  making  too  much  ado,  that  they 
can  put  off  Christ  and  their  souls  with  so  little:  that  they 
pour  not  out  their  souls  in  every  supplication  :  that  they 
are  not  more  taken  up  with  God :  that  their  thoughts  be 
not  more  serious  in  preparation  for  their  account.  1  won- 
der that  they  be  not  a  hundred  times  more  strict  in  their 
lives,  and  more  laborious  and  unwearied  in  striving  for 
the  crown,  than  they  are.  And  for  myself,  as  I  { m 
ashamed  of  my  dull  and  careless  heart,  and  of  my  slow 
and  unprofitable  course  of  life ;  so  the  Lord  knows  I  am 
ashamed  of  every  sermon  I  preach.  When  I  think  what 
1  have  been  speaking  of,  and  who  sent  me,  and  how 
men's  salvation  or  damnation  is  so  much  concerned  in  it, 
I  am  ready  to  tremble,  lest  men  should  judge  me  as  a 
slighter  of  his  truth,  and  the  souls  of  men,  and  lest  in  the 
best  sermon  I  should  be  guilty  of  their  blood." 

The  next  extract  is  from  a  sermon  on  repentance, 
preached  before  the  English  House  of  Commons  at  a  sol- 
emn fast,  April  30,  1660. 

"  Many  a  time  have  I  admired,  that  men  of  reason  who 
are  here  to-day,  and  in  endless  joy  or  misery  to-morrow, 
should  be  able  to  forgel  such  inexpressible  concernments ! 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  291 

Methinks  they  should  easier  forget  to  rise,    or  to  dress 
themselves,  or  to  eat,  or  drink,  or  any  thing    than  forget 
an  endless  life,   which  is  so  undoubtedly  certain,  and  so 
nea.r.     A  man  that  hath  a  cause  to  be  heard  to-morrow, 
in  which  his  life  or  honor  is  concerned,  cannot   forget  it ; 
a  wretch  that  is  condemned  to  die  to-morrow,  cannot  for- 
get it.     And  yet  poor  sinners,  that  are  continually  uncer- 
tain to  live  an  hour,  and  certain  speedily  to  see  the  ma- 
jesty of  the  Lord  to  their  unconcievable  terror  or  joy,  as 
sure  as  they  now  live  on   earth,   can  forget  these  things 
for  which  they  have  iheir  memory  ;  and  which  one  would 
think  should  drown  the  matters  of  this  woild,  as  the  re- 
port of  a  cannon  doth  a  whisper,  or  as  the  sun  obscureth 
the  poorest  glow-worm.     O  wonderful  stupiditj^  of  an  un- 
renewed soul!     O  wonderful  folly  and  distractedness  of 
the  ungodly  !     O  could  you  keep  your  honors  here  for- 
ever;   could  3'ou  ever  wear  that  gay  attire,  and  gratify 
your  flesh  with  meats,  and  drinks,  and  sports,  and  lusts; 
could  you  ever  keep  youv  rule  and  dignity,  or  your  earth- 
ly life  in  any  state,  you   had  some  little  poor  excuse  for 
not  remembering  the  eternal  things  (as  a  man  hath,  that 
preferrcth  his  candle  before  the  sun,)  but  when  death  is 
near  and  inexorable,  and  you   are  sure  to  die,  as  you  are 
sure  to  live;  when  every  man  of  you  that  sittcth  in  these 
seats  to-(la3',  can  say,  '  I  must  shortly  be  in  another  world, 
where  all  the  pomp  and  plensure  of  this  world  will  be  for- 
gotten, or  remembered  but  as  my  sin  and  folly,'  one  would 
think  it  were  impossible  for  any  of  you  to  be  ungodly, 
and  to  remember  the  trifles,  and  nothings  of  the  world, 
while  you  forget  that  everlasting  all,  whose  reality,  ne- 
cessity,   magnitude,  excellency,  concernment  and   dura- 
tion are  such,  as  should   take  up  all  the  powers  of  your 
souls,  and  continually  command  the  service  and  attend- 


292  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

ance  of  jour  thoughts  against  all  seekers,  and  contempti- 
ble competitors  whatever.  * 

Perhaps  I  could  have  made  shift,  instead  of  such  seri- 
ous admonitions,  to  have  wasted  this  hour  in  fleishy  ora- 
tory, and  neat  expressions,  and  ornaments  of  reading,  and 
other  things,  that  are  the  too  common  matters  of  ostenta- 
tion with  men  that  preach  God's  word  in  jest,  and  be- 
lieve not  what  they  are  persuading  others  to  believe.  Or 
if  jou  think  I  could  not,  I  am  indifferent,  as  not  much 
affecting  the  honor  of  being  able  to  offend  the  Lord,  and 
wrong  vour  souls  by  dallying  with  holy  things.  Flat- 
tery of  these  things  in  soul  concernment  is  a  selfish  vil- 
lany,  that  hath  but  a  very  short  reward,  and  those  that 
are  pleased  with  it  to-day,  may  curse  the  flatterer  forever. 
Again,  therefore,  let  me  tell  you  that  which  I  think  you 
will  confess,  that  it  is  not  your  greatness,  nor  your  high 
looks,  nor  the  gallantry  of  your  spirits  that  scorns  to  be 
thus  humbled,  that  shall  serve  your  turn  when  God  shall 
deal  with  you,  or  save  your  carcasses  from  rottenness  and 
dust,  or  your  guilty  souls  from  the  wrath  of  the  Almighty. 
Nor  is  ii  your  contempt  of  the  threatenings  of  the  Lord, 
and  your  stupid  neglect,  or  scorning  at  the  message,  that 
will  endure  when  the  sudden  and  irresistible  light  shall 
come  in  upon  you,  and  convince  you,  or  you  shall  see  and 
feel,  what  now  you  refuse  to  believe  !  Nor  is  it  your  out- 
side, hypocritical  religion,  mad^  up  of  mere  words,  or  cer- 
emonies, and  gi\'ing  your  souls  but  the  leavings  of  the 
flesh,  and  making  God  an  underhng  to  the  world,  that 
will  do  any  more  to  save  your  souls,  than  the  picture  of  a 
feast  to  feed  your  bodies.  Nor  is  it  the  stiffest  conceits 
that  you  shall  be  sa\ed  in  an  unconverted  state,  or  that 
you  are  sanctified,  when  you  are  not,  that  will  do  any 
more  to  keep  you  from  damnation,  than  a  conceit  that 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  293 

you  shall  never  die,  will  do  to  keep  you  here  forever. 
Gentlemen,  though  you  are  all  herein  health  and  dignity, 
and  honor  to-day,  how  little  a  while  is  it,  alas !  how  lit- 
tle, until  you  shall  be  every  man  in  heaven  or  hell !  Un- 
less you  are  infidels,  you  dare  not  deny  it.  And  it  is  only 
Christ  and  a  holy  life,  that  is  your  way  to  heaven  :  and 
only  sin,  and  the  neglect  of  Christ  and  holiness,  that  can 
undo  you.  Look,  therefore,  upon  sin,  as  you  should  look 
on  that  which  would  cast  you  into  hell,  and  is  daily  un- 
dermining all  your  hopes.  O  that  this  honorable  assem- 
bly could  know  it  in  some  measure,  as  it  shall  be  shortly 
known !  and  judge  of  it  as  men  do,  when  tiiae  is  past, 
and  delusions  vanished,  and  all  men  are  awakened  from 
their  fleshly  dreams,  and  their  naked  souls  have  seen  the 
Lord." 

When  was  any  Legislature  ever  addrea^d  with  more 
plainness,  fidelity  and  affection,  than  we  find  in  these 
paragraphs. 

Immediately  after  the  lestoration  of  Charles  II,  Bax- 
ter was  appointed  one  of  the  chaplains  in  ordinary,  and 
w£is  once  called  to  preach  in  the  royal  presence.  Not 
many  kings,  since  Paul  made  the  ears  of  Agrippa  tingle, 
have  had  the  advantage  of  hearing  such  preaching. 

"  Will  you  persuade  us  that  the  man  is  wise,  tha:  can 
climb  a  little  higher  than  his  neighbors,  that  he  may  have 
the  greater  fall  ?  That  is  attended  in  his  way  to  hell, 
with  greater  pomp  and  state  than  others?  That  can  sin 
more  syllogistically  and  rhetorically  than  the  vulgar,  and 
more  prudently  and  gravely  run  into  damnation  :  and  can 
learnedly  defend  his  madness,  and  prove  that  he  is  safe  at 
the  brink  of  hell  I  Would  you  persuade  us  that  he  is 
wise,  that  contradicts  the  God  and  rule  of  wisdom,  that 
parts  with  heaven  for  a  few  merry  hours,  and  hath  Dot 
26 


294  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

wit  to  save  his  soul?"  "Can  you  forget  that  death  is 
ready  to  undress  you,  and  tell  you  that  your  spoit  and 
mirth  is  done,  and  that  now  you  have  had  all  that  the 
world  can  do  for  those  that  serve  it,  and  take  it  for  their 
portion  ?  How  quickly  can  a  fever,  or  the  choice  of  a 
hundred  messengers  of  death,  bereave  you  of  all  that  earth 
afforded  you,  and  turn  your  sweetest  pleasure  into  gall, 
and  turn  a  lord  into  a  lump  of  clay  !  "  "  Princes  and  no- 
bles live  not  always.  You  are  not  the  rulers  of  the  un- 
movable  kingdom;  but  of  a  boat,  that  is  in  a  hasty 
stream,  or  a  ship  under  sail,  that  sheill  speed  both  pilot 
and  passengers  to  shore.  The  inexorable  leveller  is  ready 
at  your  backs  to  convince  you  by  irresistible  argument, 
that  dust  you  are,  and  unto  dust  you  shall  return.  Heav- 
en should  be  as  desirable  and  hell  as  terrible  to  you  as  to 
others ;  no  man  will  fear  you  after  death,  much  less  will 
Christ  be  afraid  to  judge  you." 

We  must  not  omit  to  add,  that  Richard  Baxter  had  the 
true  primitive  missionary  spirit,  in  an  age  when  the  com- 
mand of  Jesus,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the 
gospel  to  every  creature,"  seems  to  have  been  scarcely 
thought  of  by  the  great  body  of  his  professed  disciples. 
How  his  benevolent  soul  yearned  over  the  perishing  hea- 
then, and  with  what  a  holy  flame  it  would  have  burned, 
had  he  lived  either  in  the  first,  or  the  seventeenth  century, 
the  reader  will  be  enabled  to  judge,  with  tolerable  correct- 
ness, from  the  following  extract. 

"  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  lieth  so  heavy 
upon  my  heart,  as  the  thought  of  the  miserable  nations  of 
the  earth.  It  is  the  most  astonishing  part  of  all  God's 
providence  to  me,  that  he  so  far  forsaketh  almost  all  the 
world,  and  confineth  his  especial  favor  to  so  few ;  that  so 
small  a  part  of  the  world  hath  the  profession  of  Christian- 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  295 

ity,  ill  comparison  of  heathens,  Mahometans,  and  other 
infidels;  that  among  professed  Christians  there  are  so  few 
that  are  saved  from  gross  delusions,  and  have  any  compe- 
tent knowledge;  and  that  among  those  there  are  so  few 
that  are  seriously  religious,  and  who  truly  set  their  hearts 
on  heaven.  I  cannot  be  affected  so  much  with  the  ca- 
lamities of  my  own  relations,  or  the  land  of  my  nativity, 
as  with  the  case  of  the  Mahometan  and  heathen  na- 
tions of  the  earth.  No  part  of  my  prayers  are  so  deeply 
serious  as  that  for  the  conversion  of  the  infidel  and  un- 
godly world,  that  God's  name  may  be  sanctified,  and  his 
kingdom  come,  and  his  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in 
heaven.  Nor  was  I  ever  before  so  sensible  what  a  plague 
the  division  of  languages  is,  which  hindereth  our  speaking 
to  them  for  their  conversion.  Nor  what  a  great  sin  tyr- 
anny is,  which  keepeth  out  the  gospel  from  most  of  the 
nations  of  the  world.  Could  we  bat  go  among  Tartars, 
Turks,  and  heathens,  and  speak  their  language,  I  should 
be  but  little  troubled  for  the  silencing  of  eighteen  hundred 
ministers  at  once  in  England,  nor  for  all  the  rest  that 
were  cast  out  here,  and  in  Scotland,  and  Ireland ;  there 
being  no  employment  in  the  world  so  desirable  in  my  eyes, 
as  to  labor  for  the  winning  of  such  miserable  souls ;  which 
maketh  me  greatly  honor  Mr.  John  Eliot,  the  apostle  of 
the  Indians  in  New  England,  and  whoever  else  have  la- 
bored in  such  work." 

But  we  must  hasten  to  the  closing  scene  of  Mr.  Bax- 
ter's long  and  eventful,  and  eminently  useful  life.  That 
he  was  a  man  of  ardent  and  elevated  piety,  appears  from 
his  untiring  zeal  in  the  service  of  God,  from  the  deeply 
evangelical  spirit  of  his  doctrinal  and  practical  writings, 
from  the  holy  breathings  of  all  his  experimental  and  prac- 
tical works  ;  and  from  the  solemn,  but  heavenly  serenity 


296  RICHARD    BAXTER. 

of  his  soul,  as  he  lingered  painfull}^  on  the  shore  of  eter- 
nity, and  cast  his  longing  eyes  towards  the  distant  haven 
of  eternal  rest.  With  the  greatest  truth  and  propriety,  we 
think,  might  he  have  appropriated  to  himself  his  own 
beautiful  description  of  a  Christian's  devout  meditations, 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  "  Saint's  Rest." 

"  As  Moses  before  he  died,  went  up  into  Mount  Nebo, 
to  take  a  survey  of  the  land  of  Canaan,  so  he  ascended  the 
mount  of  contemplation,  and  by  faith  survej-ed  his  heav- 
enly rest.  He  looked  on  the  delectable  mansions,  and 
said,  '  Glorious  things  are  deservedlj^  spoken  of  thee,  thou 
city  of  God,'  He  heard,  as  it  were,  the  melody  of  the 
heavenly  choir,  and  said,  '  happy  the  people  that  are  in 
such  a  case,  yea,  happy  is  that  people  whose  God  is  the 
Lord.  He  looked  upon  the  glorious  inhabitants,  and  ex- 
claimed, happy  art  thou,  O  Israel.'  '  Who  is  like  unto 
thee,  O  people  saved  of  the  Lord ! '  He  looked  on  the 
Lord  himself,  who  is  their  glory,  and  was  ready  with  the 
rest  to  fall  down  and  worship  him  that  liveth  forever  and 
ever.  He  looked  on  the  glorified  Savior,  and  was  ready 
to  say  amen  to  that  new  song,  '  Blessing  and  honor  and 
glory  and  power  be  unto  him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne, 
and  unto  the  Lamb.'  He  looked  back  on  the  wilderness 
of  this  world,  and  blessed  the  believing,  patient,  despised 
saints ;  he  pitied  the  ignorant,  obstinate,  miserable  world. 
Like  Daniel  in  his  captivity,  he  daily  opened  his  window 
towards  the  Jerusalem  that  is  above,  though  far  out  of 
sight." 

Dr.  Calamy,  speaking  of  the  last  year  of  Mi*.  Baxter's 
life,  says,  "  he  talked  in  the  pulpit  with  great  freedom 
about  another  world,  like  one  who  had  been  there,  and 
was  come  as  a  sort  of  express  from  them  to  make  a  report 
Dr.  Bates,  who  knew  him  well,  and  had 


RICHARD    BAXTER.  297 

long  studied  his  character,  remarks,  "  This  excellent  saint 
was  the  same  in  his  life  and  death.  His  last  hours  were 
spent  in  preparing  himself  and  others  to  appear  before 
God.  Never  w^as  penitent  sinner  more  humble,  never 
was  believer  more  calm,  or  comfortable.  Many  times  he 
prayed,  'Ood  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner;'  and  blessed  be 
God,  that  this  was  left  upon  record  in  the  gospel,  as  an 
effectual  prayer."  After  a  slumber,  he  awoke  and  said, 
"  1  shall  rest  from  my  labor."  When  a  friend  was  com- 
forting him  with  the  remembrance  of  the  good  that  many 
had  received  from  his  preaching  and  writings,  he  said, 
"  I  was  but  a  pen  in  God's  hand,  and  what  praise  is  due 
to  a  pen ! "  Being  often  asked  by  his  friends  how  it  was 
with  his-inward  man,  he  replied,  I  bless  God  I  have  a 
well  grounded  assurance  of  my  eternal  happiness,  and 
great  comfort  and  peace  within.  He  expressed  great 
willingness  to  die,  and  during  his  sickness,  when  the 
question  was  asked,  how  he  did'  he  answered,  '*  almost 
ivellV  He  expired  on  the  8th  of  Dec.  1G91  ;  and  few 
men  who  have  gone  to  their  eternal  rest,  since  the  days 
of  Paul,  could,  in  the  last  hour,  have  more  triumphantly 
adopted  the  language  of  that  great  Apostle,  "/  have 
fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have 
kept  the  faith,  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  croioi 
of  righteousness,  ivhich  the  Lord,  the  righteous  judge  loill 
give  me  at  that  dayP 


I 


Cf  0    !■) 


